


Raised

by EleanoRambaldi (EleonoRambaldi)



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, BDSM, D/s, F/F, sub!quinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 75,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleonoRambaldi/pseuds/EleanoRambaldi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel claimed Quinn as her slave but now how they will handle the new dynamics between them? Claimed sequel. WARNINGS: D/s, quinn!sub and faberry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revenge

**This is Claimed sequel and I highly raccomand you to read it before starting this story.**

**Raised comes with some general WARNINGS (but I you've read Claimed you probably don't need them): this is a dystopic universe where master/slave relationships are the norm (and so is everything that goes with that kind of relationship); it's faberry centered with some brittana and... another pairing coming up soon.**

**Last time we saw Rachel and Quinn they were happy-ish and together, now we find them in a strong and painful scene. It's a scene that takes place about halfway through the plot, and from the second chapter on you will read about how we get to this point. I know, I know, it seems I didn't learn anything from your comments on Claimed but... I did. This time I won't drag you along with me for 10 chapters, this time the real dynamics between Rachel and Quinn in their new relationship will start to emerge soon. How about chapter 3? Does it seem fair?** **Anyway, as** **usual all your comments are really appreciated! And before we start let me thank Dee who's doing an incredible job being my beta reader!**

**DISCLAIMER: Glee is mine because I'm actually Ryan Murphy and this is the Faberry Heaven I was talking about on twitter. Since I couldn't do it on Fox, I did it here! Also: I own two unicorns and a hippogriff.**

* * *

_[ABOUT TWO MONTHS AFTER THE CLAIMING]_

How many people were there around them? One hundred? More? All looking at her, with those eager, rat-like eyes, feasting on her pain. She couldn't stand their looks, the way they waited for her to break but, most of all, she couldn't stand her own weakness. When did she become so fragile she wasn't able to face those gazes? When did the Infamous Quinn Fabray get so soft?

The whip hit her lower back. She arched forward biting her lip and muffling sounds of pain. Her wrists were tied above her head to a ring on a wooden pole. She was wearing just a slip and the ring she put on the day Rachel claimed her.

"Five!" A male voice called from behind her back.

Only five? Shit. What was going on with her? She used to take more than that and now she couldn't even stand a simple whipping? That was insane, she just needed to...

"Six."

Fuck! How could she manage to stand it before? What was her trick? How could she...

"Seven."

Quinn moaned, closing her eyes. She used to have a place to where she could run away from reality, her illogical, safe harbor, where flowers sang with contralto's voices, and she could move the sky up and down just inhaling or exhaling air.

"Eight."

This time a soft sound escaped her lips as she grasped on the rope tying her to the pole. She wanted so desperately to go back to that place, where nothing could hurt her, but it seemed too long since the last time she went there, and she sort of lost the way.

"Nine!"

Her foot slipped but she clung to the rope. She knew her skin was broken, she could feel tiny streams of blood running down her back, just like when Raphael used to whip her. Except this time Raphael wasn't the one holding the whip, he was standing in front of her, arms crossed in front of his big muscular chest and a slave kneeling at his feet. This time the one holding the whip was Rachel Berry.

"Ten!"

Quinn's legs failed her, making her fall down, hanging just from her wrists. Raphael was looking at her. She could feel his gaze on her and she bet that if looks could kill she would be a corpse for some time now.

"Eleven!"

Nine more to go. She just needed to hold on a little long...

"Twelve!"

SHIT! Quinn squeezed her eyes shut but a tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Rachel was going too fast, she couldn't even breathe between the blows.

"Thirteen."

Quinn raised her head enough to look at Raphael who stared back at her. He didn't look so confident anymore, he was biting his upper lip, narrowing the eyes, unsatisfied by how the punishment was going. If Quinn had the strength she would have smiled at him and his broken dreams of revenge.

"Fourteen."

The whip hit her while she was trying to get on her feet again and, as she fell back down, she pulled harshly on her shoulder. That was it, she was not going to try again, not while the whipping continued restlessly.

"Fifteen."

The whip reached her side and Quinn yelped burying the face into her arm. Just one second, one second to just breathe, God, could she have one second?

"Sixteen."

She had to bite her lip to keep from shouting. She knew Raphael was watching and the only thing keeping her from passing out, in that moment, was knowing he was hating her for taking it without a sound.

"Seventeen."

Her lip started bleeding as she sank her teeth in it, breaking the tender skin. She tasted the iron flavor of blood in her mouth, silently counting down to the end of her punishment.

"Eighteen."

It hit her on her shoulders. Her head was leaning on the pole, by then, and she was breathing heavily trying to keep control. In the crowd Brittany had turned around to avoid seeing the whipping a few lashes before, and Santana was hugging her, fighting hard to keep her own tears at bay.

"Nineteen."

With her eyes tightly shut Quinn couldn't see as Raphael's jaw tightened for the last blow that was going to fall on her. His lips were pressed together in a thin, white line: the night didn't turn out the way it was supposed to.

He invited a lot of people to his home to assist the punishment, to assist what was supposedly his triumph and a great moment, but as soon as Rachel Berry and her slave walked into his home he knew something was wrong.

The last time that cheeky blonde was in his house she had the decency to look scared, but that evening, she was just distant. He didn't like that. What fun could he have if she wasn't scared? But things were only to get worse for him as he walked them into the lounge for the punishment and he moved to get Quinn to her place: tied to the pole.

"Don't touch her!" Rachel stopped him before he could even grab Quinn's wrist.

"Excuse me?"

"I said: don't touch my slave."

He smiled incredulous. "How am I supposed to punish her if I can't touch her?"

"I said she was going to be punished, I never said it was going to be by you."

The crowd was watching silently: it was never a good idea to step in while two dominants were arguing, especially if those dominants were Raphael Shinezar and Rachel Berry.

"That's ridiculous, I'm the offended and I demand satisfaction."

"And you shall have it." Rachel answered. "Have a seat and watch, but do not ever, ever, try to lay a finger on my slave."

Rachel tried to walk past him but he grabbed her arm.

Let go of me right now or you'll regret it, Raphael." She hissed.

"I'm not going to stand here letting you and your dirty little slave play me for a fool."

"The law demands the slave to be publicly punished" Santana stepped out of the crowd talking out loud. The whole crowd turned to her and Rachel took the chance to free herself and walk towards the pole with Quinn "it doesn't say it must be at the hands of the offended."

It was customary for the offended to be the one to punish the slave who wronged him and everybody, including Raphael, had expected him to be the one to raise the whip on Quinn. Except that, being Rachel the slave's owner, she was the only one that had the ultimate power to decide how the punishment had to be carried out.

Raphael's eyes darted through the crowd, looking for somebody, anybody, that would support his request to be on the right side of the whip, but all those people just stared back, stunned, just like him, at how things turned out. When he turned around towards the center of the room he saw that Rachel already tied Quinn to the pole and she was ready to begin. The first crack of the whip came just seconds after that.

* * *

"Twenty." The man counted the last blow.

Rachel rolled up the whip and walked towards Quinn.

She thought it would have been easier, given the fact she was an actress, but keeping her composure during the whipping took more than she thought.

Rachel approached Quinn from the front. Quinn's head was bent down, her blonde, short hair, covering her face, her breathing shallow. She called her name once, softly. She didn't want to touch her before Quinn knew it was her and the whipping was over, but Quinn didn't seem to hear her.

"Quinn?" She called again, and this time Quinn's head rose, slowly. Rachel cupped her face, wiping away one tear.

"Good girl." She rewarded Quinn with a quick smile. "I need you to do one last thing, Quinn. You have to leave this room on your feet, ok?" Their bodies were so close that Rachel could just whisper into Quinn's ear. She began running a hand over her stretched arms, up to the ligature marks and down to her shoulder a few times, to shift Quinn's attention away from her tortured back and, at the same time, wake up her numb arms. "Can you do that? Can you stand?" Quinn grunted back something Rachel didn't understand. But she did see Quinn's legs move as she tried to lift herself up enough so that her body didn't lay limpness, hanging from the pole just from the rope. Quinn failed her first feeble attempt to stand, but Rachel wanted to give her a second chance before helping her. It was really important, at this point, that Quinn could do it on her own. She knew her girlfriend had made quite an impression on the crowd taking the whipping, and she knew Raphael was boiling with rage and anger, his need for revenge gone unfulfilled.

On her second attempt Quinn managed to stand. She was swaying but, still, on her own two feet.

"Very good, Quinn. Now I'm going to take you off this pole. I'll hold you by your waist but you need to stand on your own, ok?" Another grunt was her only answer.

Rachel took Quinn's wrist off the rope and her arm fell to her side as if it was lifeless, looped around Rachel's neck. For a moment Quinn slipped, almost falling, but she drew on her last energy to stand and, when Rachel freed her other wrist, Quinn steadied herself against the pole to be able to stand upright.

"Very good." Rachel moved on Quinn's side, holding her by the wrist, trying to avoid the spots where the whip hit her. "Let's go home now."

They walked through the crowd as the people parted to let them pass. The infamous Quinn Fabray, once again, proved that she was truly the Untamed Painslut. She stood by her name and took the whipping going all through the pain and beyond. She didn't flinch, she didn't scream or try to avoid the blows, but most surprisingly, she didn't defy Rachel as they all expected her to. They thought they were going to see that famous look on her face as she challenged the dominants, instead they witnessed something very different. It was stunning, for most of them, seeing the kind of bond Rachel and Quinn shared. Most of them knew Quinn from before, many had seen her during one or more of her claims, and they all were well aware of a quite different attitude from her. She didn't seem the same person anymore, and neither did Rachel. Something happened to those two and you had to be blind not to see the way they were bonded.

As they were walking past the last people in the crowd Raphael stepped into their way.

"Move." Rachel simply said, not even raising her head to look at him, one hand firmly placed on Quinn's hip and the other one holding the arm around her neck.

"I'm not satisfied. This hardly makes up for how your slave has offended me."

Rachel looked up. "I don't care. She had to be punished and she was; everything else is just your problem, not mine. Now step out of my way."

Raphael swallowed, clenching his fists, fighting the urge to punch that stupid woman. Of course those two found each other, they were just the same, defiant, disrespectful useless bitches!

"Raphael." A man walked up to him, whispering something to his ear. It seemed to relax him a little and, as he stepped aside, he gave Rachel a fake smile that scared her more than anything.

They walked out of the house and, after a few moments, they heard hurried steps following them. Rachel handled Quinn over into Brittany's arms as she opened the car and the four of them got in to drive back home.

They carefully placed Quinn on the backseat, on Brittany's lap, and for the whole drive Britt held her tightly, whispering soothing words in Quinn's ear as Santana kept shooting evil glances at Rachel whenever she didn't avoid a bump in the road or hit the brakes too hard.

In about 15 minutes they were home.

Brittany lifted Quinn up and brought her to the bedroom she shared with Rachel, carefully placing her on the bed. Quinn moaned in discomfort, keeping her eyes closed. She felt feverish and wanted nothing more than to sleep and stop feeling the throbbing on her back.

Britt gently rolled her on her belly and, holding her hand, she brushed away the hair from Quinn's face. Santana was gazing at them from the door frame, standing next to Rachel. The brunette hesitatied. All the confidence she showed before, at Raphael's house, was gone.

"You know what to do, right?" Santana asked her, but Rachel stared blankly back. The Latina sighed, realizing for the first time that, with the claiming, her role drastically changed: before, she was only Quinn's emergency call, but now she had to take care of Rachel too. "Clean her wounds, use some disinfectant and a soft towel soaked in warm water; let the wounds dry on their own and give her something that knocks her out."

Rachel nodded as she reconnected with reality and understood she had to take care of Quinn. For a second, seeing her girlfriend lying on the bed and realizing the full extent of the whipping, she felt lost but now, thanks to Santana, she was back on Earth.

"Good. Me and Britt will be waiting for you in the kitchen."

The Latina took Britt's hand and headed downstairs.


	2. New life and old life

Rachel was staring at her side for quite some time now. It had been two days since she claimed Quinn Fabray, her Quinn, and she still couldn't believe it. But there she was, the woman she always loved, quietly sleeping on her bed, with her mouth slightly open, tempting, daring her to kiss her. Rachel lingered on the idea for a little while, but then thought better; she didn't want to wake her up. Quinn was exhausted and she could really use all the rest she could get. As a matter of fact she spent the most part of her days sleeping or dozing off, so much, in fact, that Rachel got worried and called the doctor.

"I would say this is perfectly normal, miss. Your slave has been through a lot lately, and now her body and mind demand rest. I wouldn't worry if she sleeps for four or five days in a row, but if she keeps going on like this call me back. I'll come and check on her."

Blonde hair was covering almost her entire face. Rachel loved the way short hair looked on Quinn, it brought out the beauty of her wonderful eyes, but, again, what wasn't beautiful about the woman that was lay on her side? She smiled. She was feeling like a teenager again: her long lost love had returned into her life, they were bound together for eternity, and future held wonders in store for them. She was so happy she was actually scared. She had now everything she'd ever wanted, and she had everything to lose.

She got up and walked down to the kitchen to make breakfast. There were still so many things to do, so many things to talk about and so many things to discover. 48 hours were enough to understand that the Quinn she fell in love with when she was just a girl was still there but was indeed a different person. She moved to the kitchen opening drawers and cabinets to look for her Italian mocha. Did Quinn like coffee? She did when she was a teenager but would she still like it?

"Hey!"

Rachel turned around. A sleepy Quinn walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes like a baby. She was wearing the loose white t-shirt she gave her and some baggy gray boxer shorts but, God, did she look stunning even in those.

"I thought you were still sleeping."

Rachel walked to her kissing her cheek. Her skin was still hot from lying on the pillow for so long. Gently placing a hand on her shoulder she directed Quinn toward the table.

"I was, but then I heard you get up."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, it's ok." Quinn smiled at her, sitting down and leaning her head on her hand. The way Rachel touched her was still weird: it was sweet, and caring, but she wasn't used to people touching her like that, not after the last months anyway. "I feel like I've slept for a century."

"15 hours." Rachel corrected her. "I thought you might have slipped into a coma."

"Sorry." Quinn half smiled at her.

"Don't be, I was just worried. How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Surprisingly, still tired. I feel like I could sleep for the rest of the week."

"Then do it, no one will stop you, and I promise I will try not to wake you up."

_'No one will stop you.'_

The words echoed in Quinn's mind. That was a first! She really had no other dominant waiting for her at his place, no officer pounding on her cell's door and, incredibly, she wasn't stopping herself either. There were no nightmares to wake her up and, when she was sleeping, her body quietly snuggled up to Rachel on the bed.

"Are you hungry?" Rachel asked her.

"No." She thought for a second "Yes." She thought for another moment. "I'm not sure."

Rachel burst into a laugh. "Decisions are everything in life!"

"Don't mock me Rach" Quinn frowned "My stomach feels empty, but I don't know what I feel like having: something sweet? milk? mint? maybe milk with mint... or bacon? not eggs, though, definitely not eggs..." She widened her eyes saying the last part and Rachel took a mental note to find out, sooner or later, why eggs were _'definitely'_ off the breakfast 's list. "I would like to have so many things but then, when I think about actually eating I feel my stomach close up."

Rachel welcomed with relief what was the longest sentence Quinn said to her since the claiming. The brunette was eager to detect any signs of that Quinn was slowly loosening up and this was one big sign.

"Mmm" she leaned on the table getting real close to Quinn "Why don't we start with something easy on your stomach?" She whispered. "How about a kiss? Could you be hungry for that?"

Quinn smiled lightly and let Rachel kiss her. The old Quinn would have said something like "That won't fill my hole, Rach" smirking provocatively, but the new Quinn was still far away from that. In time, Rachel thought to herself, Quinn would feel comfortable enough to joke like she used to, but for now feeling her respond to the kiss was the best Quinn could give her.

Rachel nipped her lip, playing with her. She had a plan, it was not very clear or very detailed yet, but she knew she had to get Quinn back on her feet, physically and mentally.

At first she was lost. Just after the claiming she realized she didn't know what to do. She had been so focused on convincing Quinn to trust her that she never thought about what to do next, but when Quinn agreed to be hers she realized there was still a lot of work to do. Lucky for her they spent the few hours almost in silence, kissing and discovering their bodies all over again, and then Quinn's body just gave up falling in that comatose state she was still in. She came to for just a few select moments, when Brittany arrived and dove in the bed, suddenly waking Quinn up, suffocating her with hugs and kisses till Quinn started laughing, begging for mercy; and when Santana silently took her into her arms, whispering something that Rachel couldn't hear but that made Quinn's eyes tear up. With the exception of those moments and the occasional waking up to drink and go to the bathroom, Quinn slept the entire time, and Rachel was grateful for that. Worried, but very very grateful. It gave her the chance to collect her thoughts and understand she had to plan for their future; a course of action that would lead the scary, edgy, confused Quinn, towards becoming the Quinn she really was.

Just like when she decided to claim her, she figured out that there were some steps they would have to take, eventually, if they wanted to last, and that those steps had to be taken in order, one by one, or everything would have fallen apart. Some of them would have to be small, almost insignificant steps, but others would have to be incredibly hard to take. And then, of course, there was the gigantic black hole in her whole plane, the one that kept on sucking in her thoughts and made them disappear in a scary and uncertain silence.

Submission.

Every time her mind got anywhere near that topic it immediately shut down. She knew Quinn was never a slave in her heart, but she also knew that they had to fill a role in their world, and, most importantly, that she was not playing the part when she showed her dominant side. She could have been a slave, maybe, in her past, if things turned out differently, but she had spent more than ten years training herself to be a dominant, and although at first it was just so she could have a fighting chance for Quinn, it then became a part of her. That's who she was and there was no turning back from that.

"Rachel?"

"Mmm?"

"I think I figured out what I want."

Rachel backed up. "Anything, Quinn. Just name it."

"Cookies." She said. "I think I would really love some of Angela's cookies."

* * *

So there they were, in the old neighborhood, familiar smells and sights, the sounds of a life she left behind. It had been just a few months since she was taken away from her old apartment to be sentenced as "no longer public property", and yet it all seemed changed somehow. Maybe it was her, yes, it was definitely her, nothing can change so quickly, right? She looked up the street, trying to see as far as she could, past the traffic lights and the pharmacy. Her mind turned right and followed running up the hill, faster, past the bus stop, the gas station, the clothes store, to the red building where once was her home.

Did they reassign it? Was someone living in her old apartment? Did it matter if there was?

"Quinn?" Rachel called out. She seemed nervous and that was uncommon, to say the least. Rachel was usually confident about herself, even as a teenager, and then, growing up to be the famous talented woman she was, her confidence grew up exponentially.

"This way." Quinn lead the way towards the restaurant.

It was closed, obviously. It was early in the afternoon and Angela and Marco were probably setting things up for dinner. Quinn entered anyway, making the bell over the door ring.

"We're closed!" A voice shouted from the back. "Come back after six."

"Don't you even have some cookies?" She asked, shouting back.

"No, we don'…" The man came to the main hall drying his hand on a used rag. He stopped in mid sentence trying to convince himself he was really seeing what he was seeing.

"I'll walk the dog if you let me have some cookies." Quinn took a step forward. "Or I can wash dishes. I know how to do it, I have some practice."

The man would have loved to keep up the act but he was getting too emotional for it. He threw the towel on the closest table and closed his arms around her tiny body.

"For God's sake, kid, I thought you were as good as dead!"

"I thought that too." She whispered in his ear.

"Don't you ever, ever, do that to us again, understood?"

"I'll try not to."

He broke the embrace, keeping her at arm's length, and looking at her with a satisfied and incredulous smirk he was forcefully trying to hide under his tough mask. "You know, it's not for me, it's for Ange's sake. She cried herself to sleep over you every other night, and you know how much I hate when she cries." He sniffed, pinching his nose with two fingers, trying to look casual and cool, failing miserably.

"Sorry about that."

"Yeah, yeah, you're always sorry kid. You will have to walk the dog a lot to make up for that."

"Who makes up for what?" Angela appeared in the door, an apron tied around her waist, hand on her hip in that teapot stand she was so famous for among her clients.

"Me." Quinn said "For being away so long."

As soon as she saw her, Angela dropped her authoritarian attitude and ran towards Quinn, crying even before she reached her and she literally lifted Quinn up from the floor.

"Ow, hey, easy." Laughed Quinn, but Angela took her time before putting Quinn down.

The older woman didn't speak, she kept squeezing Quinn until she her asked to let go, which she did, reluctantly.

Quinn had the widest smile Rachel had ever seen. She seemed to glow just from being in the presence of those two people who were old enough to be her parents. Rachel stood a few steps behind her, watching the scene. During the drive to that place she wondered how come she didn't know anything about those people: she spent a fair amount of time stalking Quinn, trying to keep an eye on her, and yet she didn't know Angela and her husband existed. Was there something else she missed? Something so important she didn't know about?

"This is Rachel." Quinn introduced her, inviting her to come closer.

"I know you," Angela was the first one to get closer. She scrutinized her, like she was some sort of clothes she was deciding about buying or not. "You're that actress… Berry."

"Just Rachel." She extended her arm to shake hands, smiling her best red carpet smile, as the professional actress she was. She wanted to impress those people because they were obviously important to Quinn, but her smile didn't seem to do the trick with Angela.

"I don't like you!"

Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"You play terrible characters, you're always the dumb one who falls in love for the cute dominant" she explained to both women. "You perpetuate a stereotype I don't agree with and, besides that, you're always in those sad magazines with your flirts. You're a little slutty."

And there it was, the infamous honesty you could get only at Marco's place. Whether you were dominant or a slave you only get what you deserved in that place, with no regards to your status.

Quinn shot Angela an angry look, even if she knew it wouldn't have any effect.

"Wow, talk about being blunt, huh?" Rachel said trying to hide her embarrassment. "I guess criticism is good for personal growth. I think. Probably. But may I point out that not everything that comes out in magazines is true? Most of it is bullshit."

"Is your tongue down some random guy's throat bullshit too?" Insisted Angela.

"Actually, it is. I'm more into girls."

"Oh." She looked at Quinn. "Good to know."

Angela ended the conversation as abruptly as she started it, leading the way towards the back kitchen where she kept her special cookie reserve.

"Come on girls, this way."

* * *

While Quinn was still closing the main entrance she heard the soft _'poof'_ sound of Rachel throwing herself on the couch and she smiled: drama queen Rachel, of course.

She walked into the living room, next to the couch. The brunette was laying face down, mumbling something Quinn couldn't hear because of the pillow she buried herself into. She had to admit it was a rough start for... whatever was that they were having, but she wanted to see Ange and Marco so bad she couldn't take it anymore, even if she hadn't had time to properly prepare Rachel for that. She affectionately caressed her calf, getting her attention.

"That woman!" Rachel turned around as itf that simple touch was the cue for her big entrance to the drama stage "I mean, I know you care about her but... that woman!" Quinn tried to suppress the laugh at Rachel's bewildered look. "God knows I'm used to criticism, with my work and all, but I won an award for that role, a fucking award, how could she say I was stiff as if I had a stick up my butt?" Quinn knew better than to interrupt Rachel in her outburst. It might have been almost ten years since they were close but Rachel Berry hadn't changed that much. "I researched for that! Do you know what it takes to play someone who's been incarcerated in a mental facility? I worked hard, and I tell you" she raised her index finger in the air to make a point "I was fucking perfect!"

Quinn took the raised hand between her own speaking softly. "She did it on purpose Rach. She wanted to test you."

"Oh, she did test my patience for sure! All those questions about my flirts, all the photos in the magazines, and I don't get it! If she doesn't like me how come she knew all that gossip about me? One would imagine she would have just ignored me, right? And what about all those graphic descriptions, I mean, I'm not a little girl or a puritan but, but she made it look so dirty, she made _me_ look so dirty and..."

The old Quinn would have stopped her by now, silencing a hyperactive over thinking Rachel with a kiss or just raising one of her eyebrows, but the new Quinn hadn't gained back that confidence yet, so she just sat there, patiently waiting for Rachel to finish her rant.

"...I get that she cares for you but all this overprotectiveness... is that even a word? Oh God, that woman is making me make up new words. Last time I did this I was still in school, this is not good."

There was something, in Rachel's sullen expression, that made Quinn want to kiss her. That pouty face of her set off Quinn's protective instincts and she just wanted to reassure the other woman that the world still a lot of love for her in the world, but she couldn't really do it.

For ten years Quinn trained herself to hide her feelings because it was dangerous to let other people know, really know, about her. She trained herself to give the dominants what they wanted, without feelings involved, while her true self was safe and hidden behind levels of high protective walls. But now that someone had gotten through those walls she felt exposed like never before, and she didn't know anymore how to act. She felt exposed: every loving gesture was welcomed and scary at the same time.

It was stupid, really, because she and Rachel already made love, and it was good, or, to be more accurate, it was fucking awesome, so why in the world was she now backing up? Why did it feel so wrong and right at the same time? She knew she could trust Rachel and, at the same time, she knew she couldn't trust her either.

"Quinn? What's wrong?" Rachel asked sitting up on the couch.

"Nothing." Quinn lied hiding behind her mask.

"Are you sure? You seem..." Rachel reached for her face, but Quinn flinched.

"I said I'm fine, Rach!" Quinn got up and a moment later realized just how rude that was. She must be bipolar, how else could you explain how she was acting. "I'm sorry, it's just..."

Rachel waited for her to finish, which she never did. "Just what Quinn?"

"Nothing." She lied again. Words were tough to handle for Quinn. She was always able to use them as a weapon but when it came down to expressing her feelings, words seemed all wrong. Too big, too small, not even close to what she was going through, words were just alien objects to her and she resolved to not using them. "I have to use the bathroom."

Rachel sighed as she watched Quinn disappear in the hallway wondering where she went wrong. As it turned out it wasn't her or, better, it was her, but not just her.

* * *


	3. The pendulum

And patience, indeed, Rachel did need to go through the next days and weeks. Their life together was an erratic sequence of ups and downs.

Luckily they both had Santana and Britt to balance this new/old relationship of sorts. Rachel hated to admit it, even to herself, but the Latina had been a real savior in those first days. Her and Britt had such a calming effect on Quinn that she was actually jealous of them. While she couldn't quite let it go while she was alone with Rachel, Quinn could be herself around those two.

More than once, in the first days, when she came back from work, she had found Britt and Quinn lying together on the couch, hugging, often asleep, while Santana watched over them from the launch table.

"If I didn't know better I would be jealous of those two." The Latina half whispered, one day, to herself. "They just seem to click when they're together, you know? Like... puzzle pieces or something." They silently stared at the two bodies on the couch, a peaceful expression on both their faces. "B is such a touchy-feely person and seems to be the only one that can make Quinn's walls drop immediately."

Rachel sighed. She was trying so hard while Britt could do it without even knowing it. "Don't bother, dwarf, that's a special thing Britt has: when she hugs you, you just feel safer than in any other place in the world. Trust me, I've been there." She smiled.

"I wish she would feel so safe in my arms too."

Santana rolled her eyes. "After less than a week? You should know better than that Berry. She wants to go there, so just let her get her shit together before starting to cry over her reserved behavior or whatever you're actually moping about."

"I wasn't..."

"Shhh!" Santana silenced her raising a finger. "Not a question, Berry. It doesn't require any answer from you." She stood up. "Now let me go get my woman, babysitting time is over and you can take care of your blondie."

Santana was one hell of a friend for her during those first days. Rude, arrogant and often a real bitch, but here and there she let a few advice or just reassuring phrases slip. Those were the very things that kept Rachel on the right track in the unknown territory of their new relationship with Quinn.

When Rachel claimed her she knew Quinn would need time to adjust. She had needed it when they were just kids and she would have needed it even more now, after what she went through. Rachel was ok with that, but she wasn't prepared to deal with the two different Quinns she had to face every day. There was the one Quinn that was trying to get closer to Rachel, that, although advancing at a painfully slow speed, tried to have tentative physical contact, small things really, like holding hands, or just leaning on the couch while they were watching TV. It was the Quinn that made Rachel feel hopeful, because she knew that somewhere inside that weird mood-swinging woman, there was a part that still loved her and cared for her. But then there was this other Quinn, totally different. She was scared, rude, aggressive, and she always stepped in when Quinn seemed on the verge of kissing Rachel. She was the Quinn that never relaxed, that never trusted Rachel completely, that always feared bad things were about to happen.

"But it's worth it." She said to herself while she was standing in the door, in the kitchen, quietly watching Quinn as she was making dinner.

That day she had just found out that the ratings of her show weren't as high as the network expected and, in order to gain more viewers, the powers that be had decided to cast a few shows live, letting the audience decide between multiple choices of plot. It was a suicidal mission because it meant that the whole crew had to prepare 4 different complete shows in just a couple of weeks but the bosses didn't want to hear a word about it.

"Either we shake things up or we close and we become unemployed. What's it gonna be?"

To give credit to the whole crew she had to admit they faked enough determination and self pride for the oncoming challenge to fool their bosses, although privately they all agreed that if the new formula would succeed they would have to kiss their private lives goodbye until the end of the season.

She paused at the door, wondering if she could manage both her work and her new/old relationship with Quinn at the same time. Would she have enough energy for both?

Quinn was washing some salad in the kitchen sink, with her back to the door. Rachel walked over to her and hugged her from behind, sure she would find the answer right there, in their physical closeness. But as soon as her arms closed around the blonde, Quinn froze, hands still under the stream of water.

"I'm sorry." Rachel quickly let her go. "I thought you liked being hugged like this."

"I do. I just…" Again Quinn didn't finish her thought.

"You just?"

"Nothing, I'll get used to it, don't worry."

Quinn knew she was making Rachel worry a lot and, for once, it was not because of her attitude or behavior. Rachel loved her enough to respect her boundaries, but,as much as she cared for the brunette, Quinn just wasn't prepared for everything. She knew Rachel would deserve more affection and a loving partner, but she couldn't be that person just yet, and she was starting to wonder if she could ever be in the future. She was already asking and receiving a lot from her, she could not bother Rachel with those small things too. She would find a way to cope with that, eventually.

"No, I do worry, and I would like you to talk to me because otherwise I will just start making things up and, you know me, I will come up with the most extreme and bizarre explanations."

Quinn smiled. "You probably would, huh?"

"Most definitely!"

"But it's really nothing, Rach, I can handle it."

"Tell me."

"It's stupid, you don't need to…"

"Quinn Fabray!"

"Fine!" She exhaled shaking her head. "It's just a physical reaction, a reflex. I guess that after so many years my body assumes the worst when someone touches me and I don't see how, or when, or who it's coming from. But, as I said, It's just a reflex," she dismissed the issue casually waving her hand, "and it will eventually go away, or I will learn to control it. No big deal." She returned to her task of washing the salad.

"What about" Rachel took her hands and turned Quinn around "if I'd do something like this." She closed in the distance between them, sliding her arms around Quinn's waist. "It starts as a regular hug, you see," she explained while Quinn kept her hands in mid air, trying to see where Rachel was going, "but then I gracefully slide behind you," she moved around Quinn, never letting go of her, "and I stress the  _gracefully_ part, you know, like a ballerina", she joked and heard Quinn chuckle as she moved behind her and pressed her cheek against the back of Quinn's shoulder. "How does it feel?"

Quinn lowered her arms and took Rachel's hands in hers tightening her grip around her waist. "Perfect." she murmured.

Rachel kissed her shoulder "See? When you talk to me we can do just fine."

Quinn closed her eyes. What did she do to deserve someone like Rachel in her life? She was so good to her, so understanding, it made her feel guilty when she wasn't able to give the other woman what she deserved.

"Thank you."

"For hugging you? I happen to like it too, you know." Rachel joked.

"For hugging me the right way" Quinn explained, leaning back into Rachel. "And for… waiting."

"Ok, wait, turn around." Rachel said loosening her grip. "I want to look at you while I say this."

The sex talk, another of those issues they carefully avoided, as well as submission, as well as Quinn's job. They were all going to be big issues and neither Rachel nor Quinn felt ready to face them just yet, when things in their new relationship status had still to settle.

"Do you remember what you said to me after our first kiss?" Rachel asked seriously. She had waited for that moment for a few days now. She knew Quinn well enough to guess what was going through her mind most of the time, and she was sure the big no-sex issue was there, somewhere, eating her alive.

After the claim Rachel tried a couple of times to make love to Quinn but she realized pretty soon Quinn wasn't ready for that. Sure, they already made love during the claim, but that was after a rollercoaster of an emotional ride that took Quinn by surprise. But now that things were quieter and safer Quinn kept holding back, unsure, or maybe scared, Rachel couldn't tell.

"We didn't really talk after that, Rach." Quinn answered a little embarrassed as the memory of their first kiss came to her mind. "I threw you out of my room."

"Not that, the day after, when we met in the back yard. Do you remember what you said?"

Quinn wasn't very proud of her behavior back then. She was terrified by the way Rachel made her feel and she acted in the only way she knew: aggressively.

"Rach, I…"

"Shh." Rachel put a finger on her lips, knowing an unnecessary apology was coming. "Back then you said you wanted it to be on your own terms, remember?"

Quinn nodded. For a long time, when she was a teenager, she tried to fool herself into thinking Rachel was going to be a plaything and, for a short while, she lied so well to herself that she actually believed it. Of course that was until Rachel turned her world upside down proving she was not just some temporary game.

"And I agreed. I told you I was ok with that, and I still am, nothing has changed." She brought Quinn's hand to her lips and kissed it gently. "On your terms, Quinn, whenever you're ready. You set the pace and I'll tag along, ok?"

Quinn smiled, sadly, and looked away, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to flow down her cheeks. "Sooner or later I will wake up and realize it was all just a dream, right? I will be locked in some cell, or in a mental facility, completely nuts, living in my own mind, and you will be miles away, living your own life. And this will have been all but a dream."

"Don't be silly, you couldn't imagine me as good as I am in your dreams. Nobody could. I'm so perfect I must be real!" She joked doing a pirouette and finishing it with a theatrical bow.

Quinn laughed, grateful that Rachel could always understand her moods and find a way to switch them to brighter tones "Miss humble, ladies and gentlemen, flesh and bones."

"Yep, that's me." Rachel took a piece of carrot that Quinn had been chopping before and was left with the other vegetables on the kitchen cutting board. "And now that we've all agreed on how wonderful I am, can we finish making dinner? I'm kind of starving." She noisily chewed the carrot lifting up the covers on the pots and peaking inside. One step at the time, she though: sex? Check. Two more to go.

* * *

But it was all ups and downs, really. As the days went by and Quinn's physical status improved significantly, her behavior started to be even more shy and reserved. It was like walking backwards, instead of things going better they seemed to go worse and worse, like they were growing apart.

It didn't matter how much they cared for one another, they hadn't shared the same space for ten years and it was awkward trying to get to know each other once again. They talked or, to be more accurate, Rachel talked. A lot. She told Quinn about her job, her projects, how it worked. She told her about silly little things that happened while she was shooting and she told her of her reputation too. She was known for being a diva.

"But really, I'm not. I might be demanding, I know that, and I have my rituals, and maybe I want things to be in a certain way before I start shooting but, that doesn't make me a diva right?"

Quinn smirked shaking her head.

That was all she got from her: smiles, smirks, hands touching, but no words. Not that she was completely silent, she still said insignificant things like "can you pass me the water please" or "it's beautiful today", but she didn't say much else than that. It was like the teenage Quinn she remembered, just… worse. Getting a word out of her was tougher than it used to be, and although Rachel knew that all those years and everything she went through must have left a deep impact on Quinn's soul, she didn't expect it to be to this extent.

After days of useless attempts she decided to even the playfield. It worked before, during the claim, so maybe it could work again: they wouldn't be talking.

It was challenging for Rachel: she was not used to holding back but, once again, it was a mean to an end, and she was willing to try anything for Quinn. A part of her was screaming inside her head to just force Quinn to speak and get over with it. It was the frustrated part of her, the one that waited ten years to be reunited with Quinn and, now that they were finally living together and they were bound for life, wanted nothing more than make love to her over and over and over again, till the end of time. But that was a part Rachel could keep at bay, at least for now.

* * *

That day she came home from work a little later than usual. She knew Quinn was out most of the morning helping Britt out with her new life project, opening an ice cream shop, and that she too would have come home late. Rachel entered the kitchen quietly and found the blonde near the sink, trying to cook up some lunch. She walked over to her, careful to gradually enter her field of vision not to startle her, and when Quinn turned to her, smiling, she closed the distance and gave her the "honey I'm home kiss" that waited all day on her lips. Usually, at that point, she would start telling Quinn about her day, describing with an unnecessary amount of old fashioned adjectives the scenes, the gags with the crew, the way they never did it quite right and how she always had to step in for the final touch on the show; her suspicions about the assistant director who might or might not have stolen the costume designer's watch (she was still not sure about it, she needed to check his alibi). But none of that happened that day. Rachel just took the knife from the drawer and started preparing onions and vegetables for their dinner.

Rachel's behavior made Quinn particularly curious and contemplative, and the brunette more than once caught her glancing over and then pretending she didn't. It was so cute, actually, that every time it happened Rachel had to turn around to hide her smile. Oh, Quinn was so going to give up first this time, she knew it!

She took a spoon of vegetable soup and held it up in front of Quinn's mouth for her to taste. Quinn looked at her, waiting, expecting her to say something, but Rachel just stood and raised an eyebrow when the waiting took too long, as if she didn't understand the reason of Quinn's hesitation. They cooked, and ate in silence. Rachel made a point of honor to be as gentle and warm towards Quinn as much as possible without speaking, so she could see that nothing was wrong. She could tell, by the way the blonde started worrying her lip with her teeth, that she was trying to figure out Rachel's plan but she was still not sure about it.

Rachel giggled, thinking it was fun, once in a while, to make fun of her girlfriend. They cleaned up the kitchen and then moved to the lounge room to watch some TV.

"Fine!" Quinn finally said, as Rachel's head laid down on her lap as she usually did when they were watching a movie. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, so now you speak."

Rachel couldn't help but smile. "I thought I would give you a taste of your own medicine, to let you know how it feels when someone doesn't talk to you."

"I do talk to you!" Quinn protested.

"Sure, 'could you hand me the salt' counts as conversation. I could have a more deep and meaningful talk with the guy who makes my coffee at the bar near the studio."

Quinn sighed. "I'm not the talking kind of woman, you know that, Rach."

"And I'm not asking you to recite me the Iliad, I just want you to talk to me, tell me what's on your mind."

"Nothing is on my mind, Rachel."

The brunette sat up, moving away. "Liar."

"So, now I'm mute and a liar. Anything else?"

Rachel didn't took the bait. "I know you're brooding over something, I can almost see the neurons, skinny scary neurons, running though your system carrying little piece of paper like medieval heralds, reaching your brain and reading out loud all your considerations as they pass it from one thought to the other."

Quinn burst out laughing.

"Is it funny?"

She tried to calm down covering her mouth with her hand. "Actually, it is, Rach. You're the only person in the whole universe who could see medieval heralds in my brain and I..." She froze, realizing what was going to slip out.

_And I love you for it, Rachel._

It was just there, on her tongue, but she caught it just in time. She wasn't ready to face what would have come after that admission. Too many scary things waited for her after that moment and she couldn't handle it. Not yet at least.

"See? You did it again Quinn." She shook her head, frustrated. "What were you going to say?"

Quinn rubbed her eyes trying to collect herself. She really tried to keep the talking to an acceptable minimum, but it wasn't because she was trying to hide something. It was hard for her to think her life really changed. She still woke up in the middle of the night, sweating, scared, thinking she was still in her cell. Letting herself open up to someone, even Rachel, wasn't an option yet. She didn't want to rely on others, she had to be able to stand on her own two feet before she could risk losing her balance again letting Rachel see her thoughts.

"You already know what's on my mind more than anyone else in the world, Rachel."

"No, I don't. I guess, I make assumptions, I make up theories and I imagine things, but I do not know what's on your mind Quinn, and I really want to."

"I don't wanna shout you out."

"Then talk to me." Rachel begged.

Quinn took her hands, slowly grazing Rachel's soft skin with her thumb. Even finding the words to explain why she wasn't talking much was a hard task. She hesitated, searching through her mind, trying to catch a word, any word, to start with, but they kept on running away, hiding behind her fears and the things she taught herself during all her slave years.

"I'll try." was the best she could come up with after a while. She was afraid it wasn't going to be enough for Rachel and her endless questions, but instead it seemed to satisfy her.

"I can work with that."

Quinn closed her eyes, relieved.

"One question, though, that I need you to answer." And here it goes again, Rachel pain-in-the-ass Berry. She might seem to give up and let you win but, in the end, she always has her way.

"What?" Quinn asked, resigned.

"Do I scare you Quinn? Because sometimes you look so frightened and edgy that I'm afraid you would break down. Is it because of me?"

"No." She was quick to answer that "I know that you care for me..."

"Actually, I love you Quinn." Rachel corrected her.

The blonde smiled "...I know that you love me," she continued, "and I'm not scared of you."

"Then what are you scared of?"

Quinn straightened her back, creating more distance between them "You said one question, Rach."

Rachel knew she could force Quinn to spea; she could talk and annoy her with endless questions till she would give up, exasperated, but that wasn't Rachel's goal.

"Fair enough."

She placed a hand on the back of Quinn's neck and slowly pulled her closer. She pecked her lips once and then went for another kiss, lingering a little bit more. When she got away Quinn was smiling, thanking her for keeping her word and letting it go.

"Now come on, give me some space, I wanna watch some tv with you."

Rachel switched on the TV on to the movie channel, but instead of sitting on the couch side by side with Quinn, she playfully dragged her down till she spooned her.

"Stop it, Rachel, we're going to fall on the floor."

Rachel bumped her knees almost making her fall over the edge. "You're such a kid Rachel!" Quinn said trying to sound as serious as possible but failing miserably as the giggle in her voice was more than evident. Her mood had once again lighten up. Rachel had that effect on her, she could switch her moods with one single word or gesture. She was that amazing.

Rachel kissed her shoulder tightening her grip around Quinn's waist. "You like it, admit it!"

"I don't." She said trying to sound as serious as possible.

"Ow! Now you're just playing tough because I outdid you with that silence thing."

"No way! I could have totally gone on for days without saying a word while you, on the other hand..."

"Don't challenge me, Fabray, I'm a very competitive person." She took the remote to change the channel but the TV went black for a second, and then a man appeared on the screen.

"This is a rebel broadcast. It's encrypted so don't bother trying to trace it." The man said as the camera slowly zoomed to his face. "My name is Sam Evans, and I'm on your TV to bring you a massage."

Quinn sat up on the couch as soon as the image of her ex appeared on the screen. He changed since high-school but not that much. He still had those amazing deep eyes, and his mouth always seemed to curve up on one side, in a weird smile.

"You know me as a football player, you called me your hero and your idol when I signed autographs for you outside the field, you shook my hand and treated me like a friend even if we didn't know each other." Quinn looked at Rachel bewildered. What the hell was Sam doing on an illegal broadcast on TV? "And now they are telling you that I'm a criminal, an outlaw, that I defy the system and endanger your lifestyle. They tell you I'm a psycho, the boogey man, they use my name to scare children, to say that if they don't behave they will end up like a crazy shit like me." Rachel sat up next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "But I'm not a hero, and neither a criminal. I'm just a man who fell in love with a beautiful woman and decided to spend his whole life with her, even if she was a slave like me." Quinn was sitting on the edge of the couch. "And I'm not the only one. Slaves and dominants alike, we all might fall in love with one of our kind. It's not fair that we can't make it official, it's not fair that we can't be an item as any other couple."

The man on television took a deep breath as the camera zoomed in even more. Now his face was on the whole screen. "Don't try to trace this broadcast, you won't be able to anyway. You'll hear again from me soon, we just started, and we won't stop until we get the recognition we want."

Then the screen went black again and, a moment after that, the movie continued as if nothing happened.

"What was that?" Quinn asked turning to Rachel.

Rachel folded her hands on her lap. While Quinn was living her personal hell the world didn't stop for her but kept on moving on. Fast. Things happened, people disappeared, and rumors spread.

"It happened a few days after you were declared not public property anymore," Rachel quietly explained. "It took some time for the media to realize what was going on, that Sam Evans, the football star, had gone missing along with his lover, a slave like him.

"Initially their disappearing went unnoticed. Sport shows said he was injured and recovering," she continued recalling having seen a few of those night shows herself, "but about a month after they ran away, people weren't buying that injury lie anymore. Speculations about him quickly rose and soon after that his escape went public. They tried to make him look like the bad guy. There was a huge fuss about him, there were TV shows and articles in the newspapers saying he was doing drugs; antipsychotic mainly."

"They tried to make him look like a nutjob to explain why he so suddenly ran away, and yet, despite those rumors, his fanbase was still loyal to him for a long time. It took some effort from the authorities to destroy the image he had. He was known worldwide for being an easygoing person, with a weird sense of humor, but nice and caring. Everybody loved him, in and out from the field, and a lot of people didn't want to blindly buy the official side of the story."

"But they did." Quinn said. There was a sad note in her voice like if she knew it because of personal experience.

"Eventually, yes." Rachel admitted. "It's hard to defend yourself when you're missing and all the media point at you as the bad guy. They really turned him into the boogey man, at least until he appeared on national television, just like today, to tell his version of the story. He said he was in love and that was why he ran away. He said that he and his girlfriend were now living among refugees and they would keep on fighting against the system until they would be able to live their love openly and without repercussion."

"Refugees?"

"Apparently," Rachel continued, "there are quite a few people out there who shared his vision. Or at least that's what he says during the broadcasts."

"But you don't believe him."

Rachel sighed. "I don't know. It's not likely that so many people would skip under the radar of Central Direction, but, on the other hand, even if they had we wouldn't know, right? We know what they want us to know, nothing less, nothing more."


	4. Sam Evan's story

Sam Evans was a lucky man.

He was the beloved son, the one the system always talked about as the perfect example for everybody to follow. He made a huge mistake when he was a teenager. He was a brat, back then, with a great potential but still no functioning brain to guide it. He was handsome, had a great hand and a written future as a football star when he met a girl, a petite, crazy blonde, who seduced him and tricked him into fathering her child.

That, at least, is how his manager told his story.

It was true all but for the petite blonde part, not as much about the seducing and tricking part. "It takes two for giving birth to a child, you know" he repeated, not knowing that, more than once, the mother of his daughter had said the exact same thing.

Of course it was easier to say it now, now that it was over, all behind his back, but at that time, when he was still underage, it was scary as hell.

When they found out about the pregnancy he froze. He was there when Quinn Fabray was taken away to the facility, to spend the months of her pregnancy in isolation, surrounded just by people who kept repeating what a failure she was. He was there, and he locked eyes with her as the guards made her sit in the car that took her away. He was afraid they would walk over to him too, grab his arm and drag him away in front of all his friends and teammates. His life would be over, his life was over.

He stood still as the guards closed the car's door, as Quinn steadied herself, trying to show no emotion at all; they scanned the crowd and he felt their eyes on his skin, crawling, digging, ripping, tearing. He almost screamed. But then they turned around, walked to the car, and drove away.

Slowly everybody returned to their lives. Everybody but him. He stood there, watching the point where the car had disappeared, wondering when they would come back for him.

They never did.

In the next days, as he kept on living his life, pretending nothing happened, his thoughts often went to Quinn, to what she was living. Did she give up his name already? Why weren't they coming for him? Did she keet her mouth shout? And why on earth would she do that? Could he make it through without consequences? Could he hide? Could he run? Was his life ruined?

He thought about hiding, running away, but he really had no idea where to go. Everybody knew about him and Quinn and his closest friend started asking him if he was the father. He denied.

"She's a slut, she must have been seeing someone else." And she was. The problem was that that someone else was a gilr wh couldn't make her pregnant.

"But you had sex with her, right?"

"Of course I did, but I know how not to get her knocked up!"

Except he didn't, or at least his method wasn't as effective as he thought.

He had nightmares. He woke up in the middle of the night, almost crying, he kept on seeing Quinn's face in his dreams, a monstrous baby ripping its way through her womb, tearing her apart, and as she died, every time, bleeding out on the floor, the baby came out and pointed a claw at him.

"Daddy!" it called, bubbling balls of blood and saliva from its lipless mouth.

In the mean time the schools radio kept repeating the principal's message. "The father of Quinn Fabray's baby, man up and take responsibilities. A DNA test will be performed in three weeks (two weeks, one week... the count down kept going). Face the consequences and turn yourself in. It will be taken in consideration."

Sam didn't know if they were going to be lenient with him but when the principal's voice announced that the DNA test was due in 10 days he conceded that there was no real way out and knocked at his door.

Life, as he knew it, ended at that moment.

He ended up in another facility, similar to the one where Quinn had been taken to. He had his faire share of reprimanding speeches from friends, teachers and strangers, and he got locked up, but he was different than Quinn: he was sorry.

He will never know if it's because they brain-washed him or because he really starts to think what he has done was wrong, but he apologises, he lowers his gaze: they're right, he's wrong. Huge mistake, please forgive me!

And they do.

He comes back to school more or less at the same time than Quinn. He never saw his baby, he just knows its a girl. He tries to talk to Quinn, he stops her a couple of times inbetween classes. Theyir conversations are forced, useless.

"You ok?"

"Peachy."

"How is she?"

"I barely saw her Sam."

"Do you think...?"

"No."

After the first two conversations every time he tries to talk to her, Santana steps in.

"Walk away sperman!" And she pushes him away, sometimes with just one of her vicious looks, sometimes she physically slams him into the lockers.

The teams that contacted him before to take him into the pro league are, of course, gone, and he's kicked out from the football team, at least as a player. Since he showed real remorse for his mistake he's permitted to join the team as an assistant. It's not as good as being on the field but at least it makes him part of the team. Somehow.

When the time of the sorting comes, he's officially marked as a slave. It's not a big deal for him, that was where he was headed anyway. He spends a year in the camp, learning how to serve and when he comes out a second league team contacts hime. It's not the leading role he could have had if he had kept it in his pants, but it's a good job, and a career in football, more than he dared to hope for.

From that moment on his life is back on track. Not as shiny as it could have been, of course, but he manages to conquer a his spot under the lights, thanks to his abilities.

He takes the team to the first category and when he's back on the main stage his manager sells his story, his teenage troubles, as a story of redemption, the long jorney of a strong man who righted his mistakes. It does wonders. He becomes sort of a role model. Parents take their sons to him for a pic or an autograph, and he might never have the big titles of the Camphions, with the capital letters, but he gains a large fanbase that covers his back.

He's lucky.

While he ascends to the role of "popular hero" he overhears things about Quinn. He knows she's been... difficult, as they say. He also knows that she should go back to school, become a doctor, a lawyer, someone important, but she keeps on tripping along the way. She's not making it easier, probably she's not even trying. Every now and then he thinks about her, and he feels the regrets stinging at his side. He managed to get his life back together while she didn't. Probably because he was meant to be a slave anyway while she was meant to be a dominant. It's his fault. Well at least half of it is. He tries to reach her, a couple of times over the years. He wants to offer her help but the first time she turns him down and the second time she is, apparently, watched over by the Central Direction that tries to keep a very low profile on her. Next thing he knows is that there are bets on her claiming. High bets. And that's not a good thing.

He thinks about calling in a few favors, trying to get her out of it, but he starts having problems of his own now, and getting in the gambling, of whatever sort, is something that he can't afford.

His problems are named Mercedes.

They meet when he is hired by his new first league team. She's their secretary, and helped with pretty much everything that isn't directly related with the field or the ball. She helps the players find and settle in new homes, she organizes their trips outside home, she handle the press, and even helps the ones that don't know how to keep their personal blogs.

"Butthead Christopher!" She yells more than once "How many times do I have to say it? Just click send, for god's sake!"

She has the strongest will he has ever had to face, she's literally a rock, but she's also incredibly sweet, with a contagious laugh that always drags him along. They are best friends for almost two years, buddies of the best sort, she even helps him hook up a couple of times, and he sends a couple of friends her way too, but that was before. Before they realized that their friendship turned into something more.

They are a nice couple, they complement each other quite well. She is strong when he is soft, she laughs at his silly jokes, and he keeps her calm when she gets so pissed off she could tear heads apart. They are balanced or, as the romantics would say, soulmates.

The problem is that they are both slaves, and it's not officially allowed for two members of the same caste (whether they were two dominants or two slaves) to be publically engaged. In order to work, their society has to be ruled by rigid rules and relationships: the claim is the real foundry of their world, and that kind of commitment between two people is possible just among one dominant and one slave. Not two dominants, neither two slaves.

As for everything else, even in this case a relationship could be overlooked. You just needed to be subtle, even better if you had an official claim with someone that leaves you free to have a different relationship. It is common, mutual, two dominants in a relationship, claiming two slaves in a relationship. A happy, large family.

And even their relationship is overlooked at first. He's a known player, after all, a nice guy, they can cut him some slack, right? And she's a nice girl, what the hell, everybody needs some fun every now and then right? Except those two aren't doing it for fun. They are serious, dead serious.

The first to talk to Sam about it is his manager.

"Man, think this through, is it really worth it?"

"I love her Chris."

"No, no, no, don't give me that love crap. You could love her behind closed doors, if you know what I mean. Lay low for a while, would you?"

"But why? I don't hurt her, she doesn't hurt me, we don't hurt anybody else. Where's the harm?"

"You're breaking the law Sam, and you did it before, or do I have to remind you why you're not an all star gamer right now?"

"That was different" Sam talks back, getting irritated.

"No, it was not. It was you banging the wrong chick at the wrong time. Think about it: you can be forgiven once, but you can't do the same mistake again and hope you will still get through it!"

That is what got most under his skin, that they keep calling it, her, them, a mistake. They are not a mistake, they are two people falling in love.

She doesn't seem to mind much as he does. She's willing to keep it under the rug but, probably for the first time in his life, he is absolutely sure what course of action he has to take.

"I've lost it all once before, Mercedes" he says to her the night they make the decision "and if there is something that I learned from that experience is that it doesn't matter your social status, it doesn't mater what job you have, or how much money you can have in your bank account. What matters is that you can still look at yourself in the mirror when you wake up in the morning. I wouldn't be able to do it if I'd chicken out on Quinn when I was a teenager and I wouldn't be able to do it if I hide you, the most beautiful thing in my life."

Mercedes kisses him, then, and the next day they are both gone.


	5. Wanna ride?

In the days after the rebel broadcast Quinn kept looking at the screen, every night, as if she was expecting to see Sam again.

Rachel knew that the illegal transmission was erratic and irregular. There was no way to predict when, or even if, Sam would come back on air, but Quinn couldn't know that and her reaction was to be expected. After all, many felt the same after seeing the broadcast on their home screens for the first time.

It was unusual, in their world, to find someone who was brave enough or stupid enough - depending on where you stood - to challenge the system, but it was even more unusual, not to say highly improbable, to find someone who would do it in such a blatant way as Sam.

The idea alone of what he was doing, of what he was talking about, was considered heretic, a threat to the very foundation of their society. His words shook consciences, prompting a ripple of confusion and uncertainty. People whispered about him, about his beliefs, and he forced them to think about something they never even considered before: was it wrong to force people to mate just because they belonged to one group or the other? Was it an absurd and abstract imposition? Shouldn't they be free to openly love whomever they wished?

By the time Quinn saw the broadcast everyone else had had time to think about it, but for her it was a recent discovery and she still had to process it all.

Or, at least, that's what Rachel kept repeating to herself to soothe the stinging jealousy which hit her when she realized that her girlfriend longed to see the face of her ex on TV.

It was irrational and she knew that, and she couldn't hold it against Quinn when she didn't actually give her a reason to be jealous in the first place, but jealousy was never a matter of logic and rationality. For Rachel, it just was.

And then, again, showing Quinn that side of her was not the best thing she could do in that moment. Maybe later, when things would be more stable and secure, she would let Quinn see that part of her but, right now, acting like a possessive girlfriend was a big no-no!

 _'Patience!_ Rachel told herself once again.  _'And keep on trusting her. You'll eventually get tjere.'_

So she pretended to ignore Quinn's expectant glances at the screen whenever they cuddled in front of the TV, and to take comfort in the closeness of their bodies as she rested her head on Quinn's lap.

They spent a lot of evenings in that way, sometimes with Santana and Brittany on the other couch, keeping them company, and sometimes just on their own.

It was one of the first things that came to Rachel's mind when she thought back to the start of their relationship. When they were still in school watching TV together was one of the thing Quinn liked the most, probably because it gave her an excuse to be with Rachel without acknowledging that she wanted to be with her.

At first, during those nights, Quinn was very tense but thanks to Rachel's consistent behavior, the comforting cuddling on the couch and her ability to calm Quinn with just a touch, the Blonde slowly started to accept that she could actually enjoy their time together. She didn't have to fear anything bad coming in hte near future, she could just let old feelings surface again.

Usually Quinn would take her spot on the corner of the couch, and Rachel would lay her head on the blonde's lap, enjoying the feeling of fingers tentatively playing with her hair. That, of course, until Quinn would fall asleep, her head tipped to the side, mouth slightly opened and an expression so peaceful on her face that Rachel would just stare at her for a few minutes, before summoning the will power to wake her up and made her walk upstairs to their bedroom.

"Why don't we switch places?" Rachel proposed one night, walking from the kitchen holding a cup of hot milk with honey in her hands. "You fall asleep either way, so it's better if you just lay down. At least you'll be in a comfortable position." She said, taking the corner spot.

"I do not fall asleep all the times."

"Yes you do." Rachel scoffed. "TV is like your personal sleeping pill. Every. Single. Time."

"That's not fair." Quinn protested and sat on the couch next to her, determined to prove to Rachel was wrong. She was going to watch whatever was on TV until the end, no matter how tedious it was, just to make a point.

"What is not fair," Rachel said taking her hand and, winning a slight resistance, dragging Quinn's head down to her lap "is that my girlfriend can't even stay awake enough to watch the movies I star in. I would be terribly angry with you if you weren't so damn gorgeous."

"I did see the end of one of your movies!" The blonde protested, pointing a finger from her upside down position.

"Really?"

"Of course!" Quinn did her best to sound offended "Your masterpiece! You were playing this little girl who was lost in a fantasy world where mad hatters were having tea parties."

"That was a short movie based on Alice in Wonderland, which I did when I was still in school!"

"I've seen all of it."

"It was 15 minutes long!" Protested Rachel.

"My point still stands. I saw it from the beginning to the end!" She clicked her tongue, knowing it was a matter of semantics and yet she was right.

It was nice to start being comfortable enough to joke again, to be funny and, more importantly, it was nice to have her (friend/mate/lover?...) Rachel back.

She missed being able to be light and a little naive like she used to be when they were younger. Rachel had been the first person she showed that side of her, the first one to see that Quinn Fabray wasn't just a cold hearted bitch but a real human being, with fears, insecurities, and a weird sense of humor.

And even if now Quinn had to almost force herself to be playful, she was glad to see she could still be. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't doomed to be a sad, gloomy person for the rest of her days.

"God, I just hope no journalist, reviewer, or critic will ever question you about what you think of my work, it could ruin my career letting the world know that you don't know a thing about what I do." She pointed a finger mimicking Quinn's gesture. "When I will get my Oscar nomination there will be crews outside our house, knocking at our door with their mics. And all of it will be live, so you'd better be prepared, or at least learn how to lie convincingly."

"If you'll get your Oscar nominee, of course!" Quinn played, turning her head to the screen, fighting to keep her smile under control.

She loved how Rachel was able to bring the her old self back to life.

Like an archaeologist Rachel had wiped away the dust of all those years she had lived as a slave; slowly, careful not to ruin anything, she scraped away the filth of time. Sure, she surfaced new bumps and scars wich were previously well hidden beneath all those layers of dust, but she wasn't disappointed when she found them out, nor did she try to cover them again or, worse to conceal them so she could be a fake new object again. No, none of this. Rachel treasured them, knowing they made her what she was, that they were part of her too.

"You should have been an archaeologist." Quinn said, lost in her thoughts.

"What?"

"You should have been an archaeologist!" She repeated louder, turning to look at Rachel's face.

"Oh, ok, so now you're saying the reason you don't watch my movies is that I act so terribly I should have actually chosen a different career?" She tried to act pissed off but it only made Quinn burst into a laugh. "You're unbelievable. I need to schedule an appointment for you with my fan club. I'll sent out an alert on the web, I'm pretty sure there is some 'Rachel Berry's amazing acting worshiping class' out there. There should be!"

"Ok, ok, I give up. No classes, please!" Quinn raised her hands surrendering.

"Will you watch a movie I starred in until the end?"

"Yep."

"Tonight?"

"Yep." confirmed Quinn.

Rachel looked down, narrowing her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Press play, Miss Berry! If that is what it takes, then I will watch every romantic comedy you might have done."

The brunette smirked. "We'll see about your resolution, then!"

To her credit Quinn watched past the half time, which was a lot more than she usually did, but when Rachel's character run under the rain to confess her love to the one and only who had tamed her heart, Quinn's breathing was even and relaxed, her eyes closed and her mind was traveling in the mysterious world of dreams.

"Figures!" Rachel smiled.

She thought about shaking Quinn from her dreamy state and giving her a reprimanding look; or just waiting for her to wake up naturally, and giving her the reprimanding look; or faking to have fallen asleep too, and see if she'd confess. But she was feeling too good and happy, just seeing her Quinn sleeping like that. Quinn was beautiful, and Rachel felt privileged just to have the chance to see her like that, just like she had felt privileged when they were teenagers and Quinn showed Rachel her fears as well as that playful side she hid so well.

* * *

"Can we go somewhere?"

Quinn had been claimed for about two weeks now, and it still felt weird. Not just because sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night, not knowing where she was, with a fear that paralyzed her limbs and chocked the air out of her lungs, no. It was mostly because she was afraid of what Rachel was doing to her. The more she spent time with the brunette the more she got back being the one she was before, and that couldn't be healty.

Old Quinn had been hurt more times she could count; old Quinn didn't have a plan; old Quinn was a stupid kid who thought she knew better when, really, she knew nothing at all. New Quinn couldn't let that surface again, could she?

No, of course not. No way!

"Where do you want to go?" Rachel asked propping her head up on an elbow.

And now the new Quinn was lying on the bed next to Rachel, confused, torn between her sense of self preservation she developed and the need to give Rachel something back, something to show her how much she appriciated what Rachel did, the way she treated her. The way she loved her.

"I wanna go for a walk with you." Quinn mirrored her position.

"We can take a walk, maybe go to the park and..."

"No, I want to take you somewhere."

Rachel tilted her head surprised by Quinn sudden change of mood. "Oh! Well, ok, I guess we can go wherever you want."

"And how would you feel about sleeping outside?" Quinn asked.

"Like, in a motel?"

"Like under the stars."

"Oh God!"

The blonde faced the ceiling. "Ok, never mind."

"I didn't say I wasn't coming, Q." It was the first attempt Quinn made to propose something and even if she was asking to go to hell and back Rachel would have agreed to that. "I just said 'Oh God' as in 'Oh-God-I've-never-done-that-before-is-it-gonna-be-fun-I-certanely-think-so'. And before you ask, yes, all of that was implied in my 'Oh God'. I'm an actress, after all, and I do convey strong intentions and meaning to the most simple words."

"And do you have some baggy pants? A lousy shirt? A backpack?" The blonde resumed asking.

It was a welcomed change in her attitude, a little bit commanding, like she used to be, proactive, misterious. Were the sad and uncertain days over?

"Probably. Somewhere in the closet, I think."

Quinn sat on the bed, legs crossed, facing Rachel "And would you come with me?"

The brunette was definitely interested by now, she sat on the bed too "Quinn Fabray, are you asking me out on a date?" She asked narrowing her eyes.

The other woman hesitated and Rachel kicked herself mentally for that. Quinn didn't like to put feelings into words and neither did she like to make them official. Stupid, stupid Berry, always moving too fast, always getting ahead of herself.

"I guess I am."

Rachel looked up at a nervous, fidgeting Quinn.

"In that case now more than ever" she began softly "yes, I'll be absolutely glad to go with you wherever you want to take me."

Quinn blushed, smiling. "Thanks."

Ok, maybe it wasn't the Quinn she used to know, maybe that Quinn didn't even exist anymore after so many years, but something of her old self remained in this Quinn 2.0 and it was slowly coming back on surface.

* * *

They drove for almost two hours. Well, actually, Quinn drove. While they were putting their backpacks in the car Rachel handed her the car keys.

"What are these for?"

"These are called car keys, Quinn. You put them in the car, turn on the engine, and this thing with four wheels magically moves."

The blonde grunted and Rachel laughed, putting her arms around Quinn's neck and dragging her close enough so she could kiss her cheek. She was so unusually happy and full of energy that she felt she could push Quinn a little and joke with her.

"Come on, grumpy. When was the last time you drove something?"

"It was long, long ago, Rach. I'm not even sure my license is valid anymore."

"They won't stop us. And if they do I'll take the blame, ok?" She placed the keys in Quinn's hand, closing her fingers around it. "I'll be the perfect passenger, I solemnly promise I won't tell you to slow down, or speed up, and neither I will gasp when you will hit the brakes."

"Do you assume I hit the brakes hard?"

"I kind of picture you as the sportive driver, yes."

Quinn rolled her eyes and walked silently on to the driver's seat.

She found out that cars were a lot like bicycles: once you've learned how to ride you can't really forget it. Unfortunately bikes and cars were different when it came to roads. She could remember taking a few shortcuts the last time she went there, while working as a pony express, but those were roads she couldn't take with the car and so a trip that was supposed to last little longer than an hour, turned out to be almost two hours long.

"Next time we bike!" Quinn said getting out of the car she parked in a lay-by along the road.

"Where are we exactly?"

"Away from the city."

"Yeah, I got that. Where exactly is this _'away from the city'_?"

"It's called The Tower. Well, that's not the official name but it's what people who live around here call it."

"The Tower huh? Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna regret this trip?" Realizing what she had just said Rachel ducked her head in disbelief: it was true, after all, that her mouth was quicker than her mind and it always said thing that she was going to regret a moment after they left her lips. "I mean..."

"It's a three hour hike." The Blonde didn't look like she paid too much attention to her comment. "You're gonna be tired, probably, but you won't regret it."

"Ok." Rachel smiled. Maybe Juliet was right all along. She had to stop treating Quinn like an impaired child. She was more than able to handle things on her own, even her casual and unintended missteps along the way"But before we start, are you going to tell me why we're here? As an incentive, you know, to start this climb."

"Once we're up there, I'll promise." Quinn handed Rachel her backpack and took her hand starting to walk up the trail.

* * *

"We should have brought a tent, what if it starts raining?"

"Look at the sky Rach. It's crystal clear."

Quinn lay on the blanked they put on the ground, one hand tucked under her head and the other holding Rachel's. Above their heads there were just vast black skies, with thousands of small white lights shining through the infinity of the universe.

The climb had taken more than the three hours Quinn announced before, but it was probably due to Rachel's frequent stops and lack of practice. She was in good shape, but climbing up a mountain trail wasn't something she was used to doing. When they finally made it to the top, though, she was rewarded with a stunning view of the valley in front of them.

Quinn prepared a spot for them laying a blanket on the grass and they ate, hungrily, the sandwiches they had prepared at home. It had been a quiet and beautiful dinner. Rachel didn't talk much, in part because she was tired, in part because she was trying to catch as much as possible of this new Quinn she was facing. The blonde seemed to be beaming, so relaxed and happy as Rachel has never seen in a long time. If that was what it took for Quinn to be happy Rachel would gladly climb the highest mountain every day of her life.

After eating they lay down on the grass, the sky was getting darker and darker above their heads, and after a while Rachel felt Quinn's fingers slip in her hand, and squeezing lightly. It surprised her because that simple gesture felt more confident than anything Quinn had ever done before. Not that she wasn't trying, she was, and she as trying hard, actually, maybe too hard, and every time Quinn touched her first it felt like something she was imposing on herself. It was stiff, and unnatural.

But not this time.

Rachel was glad Quinn was trying to move forward at her own pace, and she wasn't going to push or pull anyway, so she just held her hand letting things be.

Soon she was so relaxed that her mind started to wander, taking in the nature surrounding her, and, for the first time in her life Rachel Berry felt the infinity of a whole universe above her head. Her mind traveled over the sky, through the atmosphere, up to where the air faded into emptiness, and far above that, where there were galaxies with thousands of stars bigger than the Earth, and farther than that, to places so far away that the earth disappeared into nothing behind her. For the first time in her life she realized that Rachel Berry, the Great Rachel Berry, was really just a particle of dust in the everything that was out there. She felt dizzy and she squeezed Quinn's hand.

"It's beautiful, indeed. Frighteningly beautiful." She whispered.

Quinn nodded in silence, knowing very well what Rachel meant.

"I found this place when I worked as a courier." She said softly. "Back then they gave me out of town deliveries and I used to speed up crazily so I could have a little time for myself on the ride back. My boss knew it was my thing, and was lenient about it. Besides, I was the fastest one anyway so, I guess, he just gave me the longest and farther runs because it was better for the both of us."

Rachel was listening carefully: Quinn had never been the one to talk that much and she was obviously trying her best to open up to her. It was a huge step ahead and she was so proud, proud of Quinn for finding the strength to do it, and proud of herself too, for having pushed the right buttons at the right time.

"I used to sleep out here every time I could." The Blonde continued. "This place always gave me an incredible sense of freedom, with all this space around me and no one to check or control me: I felt like I had no one to respond to but myself."

She smiled lightly letting her mind drift back to her first time on the Tower.

* * *

_The first time she saw that place it was during the ride back home after a two journey ride she had taken to deliver a jewelry box. It was quite common, for slaves like her, to be trusted with valuable packages because, as her boss explained to her on her very first day on the job._

_"Unlike dominants and other slaves on this job, troubled slaves like you have to wear tracking devices, which made it impossible for them to run or steal things. I'll always know where you are, Fabray!" He had added the last part with a threatening tone and a finger pointed at her face._

_Back then she was still the kind of girl who didn't think about the consequences. She knew her tracking device would make her deviation obvious to her boss but she didn't care. She was a free woman, and free women make their own decisions. Or at least that's what she told herself._

_The climb up the tower had taken her about three hours but the view and the feelings that place gave her were absolutely worth it. From up there she could spot the cities and all the towns that, one after the other, lead her sight almost to the sea, hundreds of kilometers away from there._

_She lay down on the grass, just happy to be there, a free woman, in that beautiful place, and soon she fell asleep. When she woke up it was the early in the morning. She was so used to sleep in the cold at the camp, so the temperature drop during the night didn't even wake her up._

_She jumped on her bike, knowing that she had just a few hours to get back to the base failing her curfew call after her delivery, and ran down the hill, taking crazy risks as she cut all the curves and took the racing line._

_It was dangerous, and thrilling, and when she did make it back on time (with five minutes to spare, actually) she was smiling like she hadn't done in quite some time._

_She left the signed receipt at the desk and went to the locker room to change and have a shower, but when she started to take off her jacket she heard her boss's voice:_

_"Who do you think you are?"_

_Quinn turned around but wasn't fast enough. He showed her against the lockers and she hit them hard with her back, ending up on the floor. Two other couriers who were there exchanged a quick look before running out of the room._

_"What was that for!?" She tried to get up again but he stepped with his foot on her knee throwing her back down again._

_"Maybe you're too dumb, girl, so I'll explain it to you once again: you take the package, bike to your destination, smile at our client as you deliver the package, and then you return back here."_

_She looked up at him, tugging a lock of hair behind her ear, with the calmest and most relaxed expression she managed to pull off._

_"I delivered the package and I'm back here on time."_

_He moved closer. He was at least double the size than her, taller, a body you could easily mistake for a professional football player._

_"You took a detour to the Tower." He hissed. "Did I tell you you were allowed to?"_

_"No." She winced as his foot pressed even harder on her leg._

_"So?" He removed the foot and squatted down to be at her level. He was clearly expecting an apology and the promise to never, ever, do that again, but he got a different answer._

_"I wanted to go there."_

_"You wanted?" He laughed at her. "You wanted?" He repeated lifting up his eyes to the ceiling. "The whole world doesn't give a fuck about what you want; we don't care. Nobody cares!" He grabbed her shirt and lifted her up with no effort at all. "You do what I tell you to do. No personal initiatives. Do another stunts like this and you're heading back to the camp. Do you hear me, girl?"_

_When Quinn didn't answer he made her hit the locker once again. "I said, do you hear me girl?"_

_"Yes." She winced but her eyes stayed locked on his._

_"From now on if you stop along the road when you're not supposed to, I'll send the officers after you. I don't care if you're dying, if you have to take a piss, or if you want to fuck a nice guy you met by the road. Anything slightly irregular and you're done!"_

_"Ok!" Quinn was angry now. She didn't like to be scolded like a child. She grabbed David's hand and pushed it away._

_David smiled wickedly at her. "Watch yourself girl!" He pointed his finger at her. "You don't want to piss me off!"_

_The next days he made sure to keep a close eye on her. He made her work twice as any other couriers in his company, giving her impossible time schedules, cutting her times, yelling if she didn't make it in time, making her go through the worst parts of the city, in repetitive short runs he knew she hated. He made her go through the most guarded blocks, knowing very well Central Direction officers would stop her every now and then to check her papers and schedule , and that would make her all the more nervous and edgy and some of those days David made her work so late and called her in so early the next morning, that she didn't even bother to go home. She just borrowed a blanket and lay down on a bunk bed that the couriers used to take a nap on every now and then._

_During those days the only thing keeping her from blowing it all up and going back to the camp, was knowing that Santana would have been the one to pay the highest price if she had to do it. As her emergency call and guardian she would be the one to face the authorities in her endless efforts to protect her; she would be the one to ask and do favors, just to make her have a more lenient sentence._

_She couldn't let that happen. Not again._

_Lucky for her there were a few people who seemed to know what she was going through. One, of course, was the Latina. When she heard of her stunt and the possible punishment, she made it a point of honor to be home every night when she came back, even just to grunt an "about time" and then leave the house after checking she was ok and still out of trouble._

_And then there was her guardian angel at the company, an Asian girl, so shy and reserved that she barely spoke at all, but that was always there with a smile, and when she saw Quinn boiling up with too much rage and anger, she would walk up to her, to remind her that:_

_"He's an asshole, but his anger fades away quickly. Just a few more days, Quinn. Hold on."_

_The Asian girl, Tina, proved to be the closest thing to a friend she had in a long time. Except for Britt and Santana, of course, and..._ Her _. But She wasn't part of the picture anymore, and she was never meant to be part of it in the first place. There was just Quinn. Quinn, Santana and Brittany. And now, Tina too._

_Quinn started to rely on her back in those days, on her quiet presence, on the coffee she always brought her in the morning, after she slept on the bunk bed. She was way too submissive and obedient for Quinn's taste, but she knew how to have her way._

_"You shouldn't stand up to Karovsky like that." She told Quinn during one of their rare chats "He has a huge weak spot and if you know how to play it smart you can get everything you want."_

_And, as Tina explained to her, his weak spot was his slave._

_His boy was a nice, kind soul, or so Tina described him. A skinny boy with eyes as shiny and big as a toon character, who could puke at the mere thought of violence or bullying. And David Karovsky had fallen in love so deeply for him that he would never risk doing something to upset him._

_"Simply be nice to his boy.", Tina told her, "Befriend him, and once he knows of your existence he would never let David cross the line with you."_

_Quinn could use advice like that, and she could use a friend like Tina, who showed her how to get what you want when you're a slave but, unfortunately for Quinn, Tina's destiny was elsewhere. Or better, with someone else._

_Just three months after her arrival at the pony express company Tina was happily claimed by an Asian guy who was so sweet and loving with her, that it would have made Santana Lopez puke in disgust._

_By the time she left, though, she taught Quinn the basic know-how of how to survive in David Karovsky's company. She did befriend David's boy who, by the way, turned out to be a nice guy although a little too chatty and self-centered, and through him she got the non spoken permission to sleep at the tower when she passed by it._

* * *

"I guess what I liked most, though, was the space." Quinn gestured to the large plane surrounding them. About a hundred feet from them, trees and plants gave way to a large meadow, framing the grassy open space."I've never been fond of enclosed, limited places" She confessed "I thought I learned how to handle them but the last few months proved me wrong."

She licked her lips closing her eyes. Rachel's hand tightened her hold on Quinn's hand. Quinn never really talked about what happened to her while she was "not public property". Every now and then some references slipped out when they talked, and although they were never explicit or very clear, they gave Rachel a partial idea of what her girlfriend went through that time: the pain and the isolation she faced; the mind tricks they played on her.

"It drove me crazy, Rach. Being confined in the dark, trying to get out, not knowing, not seeing, not hearing anything but my screams. I pushed and punched with my hands and knees on that... coffin, I swear it was a coffin, I scratched till my hands bled and my head went dizzy from the lack of air, and I thought I was dying right there, buried alive, I..." Quinn's voice cracked and she swallowed. She could still feel the filth falling down on her skin, the raw wood against her shoulder blades, the pain in her knees as she tried to kick her way out. There were still times, at night, when she woke up in the dark and felt her heart jump to her throat thinking she was buried again. "I can't really stand enclosed places anymore, enclosed places make me sick. Even the house feels likes it's closing in on me after a while."

Rachel turned her head in the dark. She didn't know that although, now that she thought about it, it would explain few things, like why Quinn spent a lot of her time in the garden, or why she took every chance she got to get out of the house as soon as she could. Before that evening Rachel had thought that was just her behavior or maybe a sign of nervousness but now she knew better.

"That's why you wanted to come here."

"Yeah, I needed air, a lot of air, but it's not just that." Quinn turned her head to face Rachel "I've seen how much you've done for me in the last weeks. Don't think I haven't noticed just because I can't say the words out loud."

"Quinn you don't need to..."

"Yes, I do. I should! I have to!"

She rolled over to her side, popped up on one elbow. She was nervous, worrying her lower lip while her eyes avoided Rachel's as much as they could. She parted her lips a couple of times, as to speak, but she never made any sound. Rachel wanted to move, maybe place a hand on her arm in a reassuring touch, but that was not the right thing to do in that moment. Whatever Quinn wanted to do, or say, was her decision and didn't need a push. Not even a gentle one.

The blonde closed her eyes, taking a moment to steel herself. Why was it so damn hard? It was a simple phrase, and a very good one, so why in the world was so difficult to open herself up to Rachel?

She thought that being in a familiar place, where she spent some of the most peaceful moments of her recent life, would have helped her, but it wasn't enough. She thought of calling it off. She could wait a little longer, right? Till the time was right. But no, she couldn't. She had waited way too long, so much, in fact, that she was being ungrateful and untrue to the only person who showed her what love was.

She leaned over, slowly. Her hair dangled down over Rachel's face as she stared at her lips and, without knowing, she licked her own. She closed her eyes. Rachel didn't dare to move, too afraid that even a flinch could shatter the moment. She waited and was rewarded when finally Quinn closed the distance between them gently kissing her. Quinn parted her lips claiming access to her and Rachel fought the instinct to grab Quinn's head and pull her down even more. It was a wise choice because, when Quinn finally pulled back to breathe, she lowered her head next to her ear to whisper what Rachel had longed to hear for so long.

"I love you Rach."

Rachel couldn't help but smile. With trembling hands she reached for Quinn, cupping her face. A tear escaped as she moved forward to capture Quinn's lips again, in a soft kiss.

A huge knot melted inside her and a new wave of confidence and happiness washed over her. Rachel Berry was used to words, she used them and threw them around with such hurry that she rarely stopped to fully think about their meaning. But Quinn wasn't that talkative. Quinn meant every single word that left her lips. And hearing her say those three words mean everything to Rachel. It was the gates to Happiness opening for them.

She felt Quinn's mouth trail down her jawline and neck, licking her skin near her pulse point as Rachel's neck arched, offering her even more space. Rachel's hands moved up to Quinn's head, tangling in her hair and pulling her back up so their mouths could meet again. She had wanted this for so long that, for a moment, she failed to register how different Quinn's kiss was. She let her go and Quinn went back to kissing her neck and quickly moving down to her chest.

There was nothing wrong in what she was doing, but Rachel started to notice that it was not as it was meant to be. Quinn's actions were methodical. Heartless.

"Quinn?" The blonde didn't seem to hear her. "Quinn?" She called again.

This time Quinn's head rose up and Rachel could see her face. Her expression immediately changed into worry.

"Baby? What...?" Rachel tried to hug her but Quinn moved away, hiding her face and the tears staining her cheeks.

Slowly Rachel sat up. She had no idea what was going on with Quinn or what got her so upset. "Quinn?" she called to her softly this time, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok sweetheart. You don't have to do anything."

"No, it's not ok!"

Quinn hated that situation and she hated herself: she was supposed to know how to control herself and her feelings, so why the hell couldn't she do it when she wanted the most?

"You don't understand Rachel!", Quinn tried to explain, "I want to, I really do, I just...  _can't._ ", she finished lowering her voice. Quinn closed her eyes trying to hold back the tears.

She thought that on that hill she could finally let herself go, but she was wrong. She wanted to make love to Rachel, there was nothing more she wanted to do than kiss that body, feel their skin touch and Rachel's moan under her fingertips, but it didn't matter how much she wished and longed for it, still, every time they kissed, every time her hand moved to Rachel's hip, Quinn's mind drifted back to the days when she had to satisfy the dominants just to get through her claimings in one piece.

"I'm sorry, Rachel, so  _so_  sorry." Quinn seemed to be stuck, repeating over and over the same apology.

"No, don't be." Rachel slid her arms around Quinn's waist. That wasn't the night she had hoped for when Quinn started to kiss her. For a moment she though Quinn was over her issues and, instead, here they were, more real than ever.

"It feels so wrong, Rach, It feels like I'm servicing a domme and... I can't, I'm sorry... I..."

Rachel pulled her closer. It was a gesture to comfort Quinn but also to hide all the feelings that she knew were evident in her face. It hurt her hearing those words, hearing from Quinn herself that she still couldn't think of her as just one person, her lover  _and_  her owner, but instead that she kept on seeing two separate personas. She could only try to imagine what Quinn was going through, but she couldn't really understand it. She didn't feel any different when she was with her girlfriend or her slave, simply because they were the same person. Quinn, instead, kept on acting differently when she thought she was with her owner than when she thought she was with Rachel.

Rachel had thought that keeping her domme side under strict control Quinn's transition would have been easier but, once again, she was wrong. Or maybe, she just underestimated the extent of Quinn's problem.

"You told me you love me today. You realize that you never said that before?" Rachel spoke softly in Quinn's ear, moving her hand down her back in circular motions.

"Such a lousy girlfriend, huh? It took me years just to admit it!"

"No, I won't let you indulge in self pity, Quinn Fabray. You just made my day and I'm not letting you ruin it! Look at me." She raised Quinn's face so they were looking at each other. "I love you, Quinn, and I'm proud to have you by my side. I'm proud to have a place in your heart and I think I'm going to brag about how the amazing Quinn Fabray loves me for the rest of my days!"

Quinn chuckled and for a moment… but it was a short relief.

"I do love you Rach, I've always loved you, even when I was too stupid to say it out loud. I wish I could prove it to you."

"No need for that. Of course," she added, "I want to make love to you, but we'll do it when it feels right, Quinn."

"I'm so sorry, Rachel, so..."

" Quinn, stop. " Her voice was soft but it didn't left any doubt that, for Rachel, the argument was over. She dragged Quinn down on the grass again, and lay with her, spooning her. She left Quinn the privacy to cry and to be with her own thoughts for the rest of the night, but she never let her go, keeping their bodies together, so that Quinn would understand that everything was ok. That they were going to be ok.


	6. Red Carpet

Quinn was nervous. She had been ever since Rachel found the invitation in her mailbox, after they went on their little trip to The Tower.

They went out to have a nice week end together and, although it didn't turn out the way Quinn planned, it had been a fairly decent time spent with the woman she loved, up until they came back home to find out that Rachel's network was throwing a party in three days.

The occasion for the event was the launch of the new season, and Rachel's show, with its rating, was one of the ones that the big bosses wanted to promote more. Rachel had tried to dismiss the invitation; she knew that attending meant Quinn's presence would be required and she didn't want that. Not yet.

"Too much pressure, Quinn. We can wait." She told her.

"But you want to go."

"It's just a party, nothing big. Besides, if I don't go I will be missed, it won't go unnoticed and it might actually be good for my image, you know?"

"Sure." Quinn mocked her "You'll become the spoiled brat of a diva. What an image to have."

"And here I thought I already was!" Rachel tried to light up the mood, leaning into Quinn to steal a kiss from her. The Blonde complied letting her forehead rest on Rachel's.

"I can do it Rachel." she whispered. "You don't have to protect me."

"It will be our first official date out. Lots of people, lot of reporters, cameras..."

"Probably, yes."

"Maybe we can choose something more casual as our first time. Less crowded."

"You love the crowd Rachel."

"I do." She admitted smiling.

"Then we'll go."

And so, there they were: on the red carpet.

She saw it before but it was just a photo in magazines or a TV special and all that kind of stuff. Being there in person, though, was a totally different experience.

Photographers were aligned, yelling here and there, flashing toward Rachel and her co-stars. Behind her there was a tall wall with logos of the sponsors and the different shows running for the final award. Staff members in a black shirts supervised the event, trying to ensure that every photograph had their chance at a good shot, gently pushing actors toward the next interviewer, were they gorgeous women in shiny dresses or funny men with weird hair. How could Rachel stand all those hands touching her? Pushing her everywhere, all those voices calling her name, the lame questions, repeated over and over.

"So, how's your relationship with Misha?"

Like she was gonna say that Misha was a selfish bitch and they couldn't stand each other.

"She's amazing, and so funny. She's always the first one to joke around." Aka: she's a bitch who makes fun of everyone with no respect whatsoever. "Very professional too, she has such insights on directing the episodes, and she can always give a good advice." aka: she pisses of our directors every single day because she thinks she knows everything better than them, and I think the light guys tried to kill her once but I'm not sure so I'm not gonna say anything about it. "I really am lucky to be working with her." aka: the network included a clause in my contract and I'm always happy to work with whoever I work with.

Fuck reality, this was the showbiz.

Quinn smiled to herself shaking her head. She was the lucky one tonight, having the chance to stay just outside the red carpet, waiting for her Rachel to join her and go to the party.

Her Rachel.

That word still sounded strange as she turned it around in her head.  _Hers._ Was she really? Wasn't supposed to be the other way around?

"Are you ok?" Rachel touched her arm.

Quinn nodded, placing her hand over Rachel's. She was feeling strangely nervous and confident at the same time. She looked up at all those people wondering if they knew who she was, if they were just waiting for her to slip and fuck it all up again, embarrass Rachel in some way, and she felt like her own bowels were dropping to the floor, draining all the blood from her veins. But then Rachel always came up to her, to catch her gaze, and in those moments Quinn felt like falling into her eyes, irresistibly drawn to her. And the rest of the world disappeared.

"Come, let's go inside." Rachel took her hand leading the way inside the building.

* * *

It didn't take much for Quinn to understand that the party was meant to be a show off. They were in the ballroomof a nice, classy hotel, with a fountain in the center. Nice, classy women, sat waiting for their nice, classy men to bring them a drink. She knew most of those people if not personally, at least for having seen them in the magazines. There were many actors whom Rachel worked with, some of the network's showmen; a couple of comedians that never really made her laugh, not even when they were broadcast live for the mandatory annual comic show on all the TVs. And the ones she didn't know were briefly introduced by Rachel as they stood close, shoulders almost touching, in a secure corner of the room.

"That one's Dick. Name and all, actually. He's not bad, just stupid. And that one over there is Laura." She said pointing out a middle aged woman with white, white hair. "You don't want to mess with her, she's a total bitch. Next to her - that's my big boss, his name is Eric. He owns the network and even if he's not directly in any board, he's the one you have to charm if you want to keep a stable job. See? Worn out comedians are already on his tail."

"So, is this your new girl?"

A noisy woman walked towards them in a glitzy dress gray as her hair. A man, of average high, average built, average face plus a black beard, trailed a step behind her.

Rachel saw the potential slip of acknowledging Quinn as her property and doged it by simply introducing them to each other: "Quinn these are Lizzie and Dean, the official PR sharks of the whole network. They made up every flirt I needed to get to where I am now."

Lizzie smiled proudly. "I had good material to work with," the woman said barely payingattention to Rachel as she circled Quinn, studying her, appraising her body.

"Very beautiful indeed, Rachel. Good choice."

"Thanks, I guess. I think I'm very lucky."

She put her arm around Quinn's waist, affectionately. Her intentions were genuine but she understood, immediately that her gesture wasn't received well. Quinn must have interpreted it as the brunette claiming possession over her slave in front of a new dominant, and she reacted shifting her weight from one foot to both, rising her chin just enough to make it clear she was her own persona, an individual and not a possession who would keep her eye low at any given time.

It was a subtle changing but one that was not lost to Rachel. She knew she needed to make things right before it was too late because, once Quinn's mood was settled, it would be virtually impossible to switch it back, especially in front of so many people. She needed to act fast.

Ignoring Lizzie and Dean she stepped in front of Quinn, placing both hands on her hips and waiting for Quinn's eyes to focus on her. When they did she smiled and kissed her cheek, lingering enough to whisper to her ear a simple "Are you ok?"

That simple, caring gesture, brought Quinn back. She nodded lightly and thanked Rachel with the ghost of a smile. Rachel knew Quinn was not ok but at least now she was back in control.

Rachel slid her hand in Quinn's interlacing their fingers and squeezing it gently before turning her attention back to Lizzie and Dean.

"Oh, aren't you two cute," the woman commented with fake amusement. "Playing the lovebirds. I could work miracles with this image. I could get you a couple of roles in romantic comedies if I just make a few calls to some magazines and have them snap pictures of the two of you like this. This is the good stuff, first page material even."

"I don't want the tabloids after us, Lizzie."

"Ok, you want to have some time to yourself, I get it, I'll give you one more week."

"I said no."

Lizzie tilted her head looking directlyat Rachel for the first time. "Are you serious?"

"No magazines," the brunette repeated, "period."

"This is stupid. They will come after you eventually. It would be in your best interest if this appened in a controlled environment, don't you think?"

"I think we're ok the way we are. Now, excuse me, I'm hungry, so I will go get something to eat."

She moved past Lizzie and Dean still holding onto Quinn's hand.

* * *

"Still with me?" Rachel searched Quinn's gaze giving her a glass of water.

The blonde nodded quietly. She was still scanning the room, trying to brush up her skills in cataloging the people, but there were really too many strangers to evalutate in there and she couldn't focus on one long enough to get a clear idea. She felt overwhelmed and on the verge of acting out on those feelings.

"I know this is not the best setting, but I promise you we'll go as soon as it is sociableyacceptable."

"I can handle them. I've been watched before, in worse situations." That sounded more like a mandatory answer than a real one. Quinn had to be tough, ('had to' being key in that phrase) for herself, her reputation. She had to be stronger than ever because she was Quinn Fucking Fabray.

Rachel knew Quinn was feeling the pressure and getting more and more nervous and anxious by the minute. She tried to ease her discomfort taking her hand but it felt rigid and tense; her mind was else where, trying to analyze all the people at the party.

Coming to the party was definitely a mistake; she didn't consider the situation as a whole. It was too much and too soon for the both of them to handle.

She tried to catch Quinn's attention by cupping her cheek, but even that simple gesture made her flinch.

"Fine, that's it. We're going." Rachel decided, in fear they had gone too far.

"No." Quinn stopped her. "It's not sociably acceptable yet." She tried to smile but her efforts weren't that convincing.

"Let them talk, I don't care. Besides I'm getting bored so..."

"No." Quinn repeated, this time so firmly she actually convinced herself she meant it. She didn't want to be the one to ruin Rachel's night. "I just need some air."

"I'm serious, we can go." Rachel offered again.

"I'm serious: we can stay!"

Rachel stared at her for a couple of moments and then nodded. "Cross the room and head for the bathrooms, there is a small hallway with a green door on the left that leads to the back yard. You should find all the quiet and the air you need there."

Quinn thanked her with a light smile and then turned around looking for the door.

"Nice catch you have there, Berry." A woman remarked walking by her as Quinn left to go outside. Rachel didn't even turn to talk to her. She closed her eyes; another one of her colleagues and another front she had to put up in front of them, braving their questions and insinuations.

"Hi Stephanie."

"I am sorry, Berry, but I don't get it: she's way out of your league."

Steph was one of the executive producers of her show and she didn't know the meaning of small talking. She was a very busy woman and way too worried about everything to simply enjoy life. She was actually the very reason Rachel always kept looking for something more, because she didn't want to end up like her, living just for her job, leaving behind her a great impression on the world but no real meaning in the lives of the ones around her.

"Actually I think Quinn and I are the only ones who play in the same league. Everyone else just doesn't come even close."

"Oh, come on, now you're just bragging!" Stephanie answered popping the olive from her martini into her mouth.

Rachel couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I guess I am a little bit. I'm very lucky to have her, that's for sure."

"But still, how could you handle her? Not to doubt your dominant's skills but, come on, I've seen her, she's a wild animal."

Hearing that Rachel's expression changed and she suddenly became very serious. "Well, first of all she's not an animal," she said straightening her shoulders, in a posture her producer knew too well as the I'm-a-step-away-from-going-psycho-Berry-on-you, "and second, she's not wild either. She's just very strong-minded, which I think is actually a plus."

"Fine, whatever, she's your problem now. Or your pleasure, as you might like." She added.

* * *

Fresh air on her skin. Quinn breathed deeply as she closed the door behind her back, leaving all the glances, the whispers and oh-so-subtle talks behind.

She rested her back on the wall and closed her eyes. God, it was more difficult than she thought.

It was a chilly night, the sky was covered with dark clouds threatening to start with a noisy storm really soon. For a moment Quinn imagined herself sitting on the floor, while the rain would pour over her, soaking her wet. She found herself praying for it, for the rain to fall, because there was something liberating about that, as if the water dripping from the sky could wash away your worries, your tiredness, your fears.

But of course, she wasn't that lucky. She was not entitled to wish, or pray, or beg, for the relief of rain on her skin. She was just a slave, after all, as everybody at the party kept reminding her with their looks and whispers.

"Fuck!" she ran her hands into her short blonde hair messing it up. A voice in the back of her mind warned her that Rachel would probably frown at seeing her hair like that, and then she would try to make it look better tucking itbehind her ear or something. Well, then fuck Rachel too.

No. Not that. That wasn't fair.

Quinn sighed letting herself slide down until she sat on the ground.

She knew the brunette wasn't doing it intentionally, quite the opposite as a matter of fact, but still every time Rachel touched her, on this night, it felt like a claim in front of the other dominants. It felt as if she was marking her property in front of her peers.

It felt so different than when they were at home. When it was just the two of them Rachel's touch felt warm and reassuring but now, in front of all those people...

"Knock it off Fabray!" She told herself, but the feeling still lingered inside. It was stupid, really, she knew Rachel wasn't that possessive with her, and yet she felt it in her gut and couldn't shake it away. Why in the hell did she agree to come to this party?

Once again Quinn's mind went back to the previous days, when Rachel did her best to make her feel loved and cared for, when Rachel showed her respect and patience, when Rachel put up with all her weird mood swings, and her silence. She owed her at least an honest try at this; it was the least she could do.

The door opened and a man joined her in the garden. He didn't see her at first as she was still sitting on the ground with her back to the wall. He walked out with his hands in his pockets and looked up, studying the sky.

"Do you think it will rain?" He asked surprising Quinn. He turned around giving her a warm smile. "I like rain."

He was a good looking man, with dark, curly hair. He must have been around her age, handsome, in his own way, although he wasn't really her type. "My name is Blaine Anderson." He extended his hand keeping it in mid air for a while, waiting for Quinn to take it, which she didn't. "You can call me Blaine." He said putting his hand back in his pocket.

"Why would I even want to talk to you?" She looked up at him cooly. She was never the girl you could hit on so easily.

He didn't answer, giving her a sly smile, and his reaction made Quinn curious. Quinn took a better look at him: he seemed harmless at first look but then, if you took the time to study him a little better, you could notice little details like his straight posture, or that glint in his eyes, and you would know there was more to him than met the eye.

He sat down on the ground, with his elbows on his knees, next to her but not as close to make her uncomfortable. "Everybody is looking for you, you know? Quinn Fabray."

"You know me?"

"Everybody knows you. They were talking about you even before you and your owner showed up at the party: you're sort of the guest of honor, I guess."

"Well, you and everybody else can go look for another guest of honor, for all I care. I'm not a fucking freak show."

"Wow!" He raised his hands apologetically "there's no need to lash out on me like that. I'm just an observer, pretty much like you are."

Quinn frowned at that sentence. She was an observer, but how in the world would he know that? Have they met before? Again Quinn tried to take a better look at him and again she had the feeling there was something, just beneath the surface, that she didn't quite recognize.

"I do it too, hell, probably every slave in the world does the same exact thing to some extent. Some of us are better at it, but I think every single one of us tries to study people around to see what's in store for us. Call it self-preservation instinct, if you like."

"You don't look like a slave."

"Why, because I don't have bruises like yours?" His eyes darted down at her covered arms like he knew that, beneath the sleeves, there still were yellowish bruises from the days before the claim.

Again the phrase that popped into Quinn's mind was "what the hell?" but she tried to conceal her surprise: she didn't want him to know that he was making such an impression on her. He didn't seem to buy her act, though, and lowered his head, as if he wanted to give her the time to recollect herself before cvontinuing the conversation. "It's the way you move," he answered the unspoken question, "it's not that evident but I guess a trained eye like mine notices more things than the average person. You're a little stiffer than you should be if you were 100% ok, and you move slowly, gracefully" he added lowering his tone "but still slower than usual. At first I thought it was because you were uneasy in this environment, but then I realized it was not that simple."

"You seem to have been watching me a lot."

"I did!"

A distant thunder echoed in the sky, capturing Quinn's attention. The sky was completely covered with clouds by now and the chances of a rain weren't so farfetched anymore. A mild, cold wind started to blow in their direction, bringing the storm closer to them and making her shiver.

"And why do you have a trained eye Blaine Anderson?" Quinn asked returning to their conversation.

He didn't say anything right away but kept his eyes on the sky for a while before finally answering in a soft tone. "I just do."

Quinn's senses tingled and she tensed, not buying his lie. "How come that I don't believe you?"

He raised his head looking straight at her. "I mean no harm to you, Quinn." His voice was so soft and intimate that it caught her by surprise.

"Then what do you want from me?" she asked.

He got up and wiped away the dirt from his pants. "I just wanted to introduce myself" his voice was back to normal again: secure and confident. "And I wanted you to know that not everybody, in that room," he pointed to the closed door, "is judging you or waiting for you to slip. You've got people cheering for you too."

Quinn frowned but before she could come up with a coherent comeback he spoke again.

"It was a pleasure meeting you." He bowed, smiling at her. "Maybe we will have the chance to meet again."

"What? Hey, wait!" She got up as quickly as she could but Blaine was already back in the ballroom, making his way through the crowd.

* * *

Despite everything Rachel Berry could hardly hide her pride. It was not the idea of having claimed the Infamous Quinn Fabray (although, to be completely honest, the diva was pleased by the admiring looks she got from dominants all over the place); she was proud because she had a beautiful woman at her side, a smart woman, a brave woman, a woman she loved with all her heart and made her feel complete like no one else.

"So, how did you break her?" Asked Mark.

He used to be one of the factotum on the show, part time dancer, last minute actor, bodyguard when needed, mail man, phone man and official coffee dispenser; until Darren, one of the producers, claimed him and made him his personal assistant. Mark was one of the few people on the show that Rachel could really consider as a friend. He was a little over the top, at times, but he was always honest with her, through the bad and the good times. Too bad he wasn't able to keep a secret for long.

"That's none of your business Mark."

"Oh, come on!" He pleaded "Are you saving the story for some magazine? I promise I won't spill before it's published!"

"I don't want my relationship in any magazine, hence I won't tell you a thing. It's already complicated as it is, I don't need to add more shit to that."

"Ooh, dirty talk! That's unusual, Rachel Berry. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"You know you can act but you can't lie, so stop pretending and just tell me what it's going on."

Mark took a canapé from a tray while the waiter was hurriedly walking towards the tables.

"I'm just worried, this is our first time out after the claim and it's a big thing."

"Well, what can she do to mess it up tonight? It's a formal occasion, you let her free to wonder around, you obviously aren't leashing her, not literally and not metaphorically... she will walk around like a social pariah for a while, trying to hide in corners and be as invisible as she can, while people will stare at her and stare at you, whispering fantastic tales about your claiming. I can totally imagine what they would say," Mark continued stopping a young waiter to take another canapé. "Who would have thought the little Berry had the balls to claim that Painslut" he said mimicking a female voice "I knew the diva was skilled with the whip but that Fabray has such an high pain tolerance, how could she break her?"

Rachel looked away, angry. She knew Mark was right, she could almost hear the words passing from mouth to mouth, about her and Quinn, about the claiming. She should have thought better about this, make up a cover story to sell to everybody, but she didn't really think it through, hoping that she could just play the shy dominant who got lucky. She didn't take into consideration that Quinn's reputation was well known and everybody, in that room, would know about her. It was a strange situation, really. Usually, every time she had a partner, was it real or fake, she was the famous one, the one who got all the attention and the curious/doubtful/agressive/mocking looks. But this time it was different, in this ballroom people were more interested in Quinn than her, and it was the blonde who had to deal with all that unwanted attention. She mentally kicked herself. She should have seen this coming. What the hell was she thinking bringing Quinn to this place just like that? There was too much pressure and she was starting to get a bad feeling.

"I've heard the blonde is scared of dark, closed spaces. Maybe she caged her..." Mark was still pmimicking voices, lip syncing two women to their left as they were speaking and sneaking not so subtle side glances at Rachel.

"Can you stop?"

"Why? You know this is what they're saying."

"Well, I'd like to pretend I don't know about it, ok?"

"God, you're so tense, chill out, will you? Here, take this" he handled her a flute full of champagne.

"Not a good idea. I'd better be in control of myself tonight." She said putting the flute on the table but Mark quickly handled it to her again.

"I won't let you get drunk, I promise, but you'd better relax a little, or people will start noticing your weirdness and will gossip even more."

Rachel took a sip scanning the room for Quinn. She was on the opposite side of the fountain and, just as Mark said, she was trying to lay low but to no avail. All the eyes seemed glued to her figure.

"Did you beat her?" Mark asked out of the blue.

"What? Are you serious?"

"You got her wearing long sleeves, I thought it was to hide the bruises." He explained emptying his glass.

"I didn't make her wear anything, she chose something she was comfortable in. That's it."

"Fine," he raised his hands in the hair, "don't get mad, I was just wondering."

"How could you even ask me something like this?"

"Oh, come on Rach, don't pretend you never used whips or chains on anyone. It was a fair question. Besides don't tell me you never used a whip on her, I wouldn't believe you anyway."

Rachel bit her lip thinking about the claim, the kneeling Quinn and her red back, the clamps on her nipples.

"I did what I had to do to have and keep her trust." And it was true. Rachel didn't regret anything she did because, in the end, it turned out to be the right thing to do. "But that's not what she needs now. She's had more than her fair share of that."

Mark wanted o reply then thought better and decided to sip some more champagne melodramatically.

Rachel sighed. "What?"

"What, what?"

"You do that when you want me to know there's something you want to tell me and you know I won't like it so, ok, duly noted, you've played the good friend and tried to save me from the harsh truth, now spill it."

"I was just wondering what exactly is your plan, Rach?" Mark moved so that he stood in front of her, cutting out Quinn from Rachel's view. "I get that you want to go easy on her because she's had enough, and I'm not saying you're wrong, but what do you think will happen now? Do you think she will just gracefully submit to you? Because I might not know her at all, but I'm telling you right now, that spark in her eyes? That is as far as submission as you can get, Rach."

"We will be fine." Rachel's voice didn't sound so sure.

"Inside your house, maybe, where you're free to do as you please, but in the outside world you're supposed to be able to control her."

Rachel worried her lip nervously. Mark was right, damn him.

The chubby man saw Rachel's concerned look and almost regretted his words. "Oh, baby girl, you know I didn't say this to bring you down, right?"

"I know."

"And I'm positive you're gonna figure it all out eventually, but I don't want you to fool yourself thinking everything it's going to be fine on its own because that's not how the real world works, babygirl."

"I know, I know, it's just..." Rachel looked for the right words "Have you ever had a moment of such pure happiness that you were afraid anything could ruin it? Have you ever seen any movement, any word, any though as a deadly danger to your perfect state of mind, to the lightness of your heart, to the calm that keeps your soul balanced and stable?"

"Yep."

"Just like that? Yep? I wax poetically about existential happiness and you..."

"I've been happy, Rachel," he interrupted her, "I know how it feels and how scary you get at the thought of loosing what makes you feel that way. I've been so happy, Rach, I would have frozen the whole universe just so I could stay like that forever. But life is not meant to be static, life runs and pushes and pulls and screams and happiness doesn't mean anything on its own. It's all about the journey to get there, the obstacles you overcome, the people you meet along the way, the mistakes you make, and the right decisions you take. Happiness is about getting the things you want, not just having them, and if you just stop at the moment you think it's perfect, for the rest of your life, perfection would simply fade away as you stare at it."

He closed his statement chewing the last bite of a minipizza he took who knows when.

"When did you become such an insightful philosopher?"

"I always was, babygirl, it's just that I like being an asshole better." He smirked getting the last canapé on the table behind them.


	7. The touch

"Look who's here."

There was a time, back in the days, when Quinn thought she didn't fear anything, but that was a long time ago. Throughout the years she had learned that there were many things that scared the hell out of her: needles, being buried alive, losing Santana and Britt, ... Him.

Raphael prowled circling around her. The moment she sensed his presence Quinn instinctively tensed. Her mind screaming, begging her, really, to keep a low profile and do everything it took to keep him calm, but she kept repeating to herself that he held no power over her, anymore, and she didn't have to be scared or, worse, to show him her fear.

"Isn't it the famous Quinn Fabray," he stopped in front of her, "I thought you were dead, girl."

Quinn's mind was petrified. She should have been racing around, trying to find a way to escape from that situation, but instead she was simply staring at him, breathing a little heavier than normal.

"Lower your gaze, girl."

* * *

_"Lower your gaze, girl!" His hand pressed to her head, forcing her down. Her arms were stretched upwards, and behind her back. Her legs were going to fail her soon, she was going to be hung just by her wrists. How many hours left for the claim attempt to end?_

_She prayed God to just let her faint and escape from there._

* * *

But she wasn't tied up, that day, and he couldn't claim her or hurt her anymore.

"I don't belong to you." It was the first time that she used her status as a weapon to defend herself against unwanted attention, and she used that thought to give her strength. Biting her lip in a resolute expression, she raised her chin higher.

He smirked, amused by her defiance. Then, with a sudden move, he grabbed a hold of her hair and pulled down to bring her to her knees.

"You still owe me respect, girl!"

Quinn fought back. She clenched around his wrist with both hands and twisted it until he let go and she could step back.

"Don't. Touch me." she hissed coldly.

"What's happening?" Rachel got there from the other side of the room. From the corner of her eye she had seen Raphael grabbing Quinn and she rushed over as quickly as she could.

"Is this your slave?" Raphael asked loudly, never breaking eye contact with Quinn.

"She is."

The crowd around them fell silent, by then. Almost everyone attending, including the network executives and all of Rachel's coworkers, were gathered near the fountain watching the scene. Quinn looked like a cornered animal ready to attack and Rachel wasn't sure how long (or if) the blonde could control herself, so she stepped between them, breaking their eye contact and forcing Raphael to look at her.

"I'm asking again: what happened?"

Raphael took a few deep breathes, straightened his back, relaxing his posture. He knew this had moved to another level, and physical confrontation was not on the plate anymore.

"You really have no control over your slave, miss," he refused to acknowledge her by name, "she doesn't show proper respect to dominants and she dared to touch me without permission."

Someone, in the crowd, started murmuring.

Rachel's eyes darted around, trying to evaluate the situation. Too many people had seen what happened and she could see Misha already smiling and whispering to the third floor secretary. God, this was going to be in the papers before the end of the evening.

"I apologize," she said coldly, "and I will take care of this."

Rachel turned wanting to end the conversation but Raphael wasn't finished yet.

"I doubt that!" He said louder, forcing Rachel to turn and face him once again. "Since you obviously failed at training your slave on the most basic of behavior, I don't see how you could you properly punish her after what she just did."

"This" Rachel tilted her head on the right letting her cockiest smile blossom on her face, "is none of your concern, sir. She's mine to deal with."

"You don't have control over your own slave," he yelled at her while she grabbed Quinn's forearm dragging her along, "you're not capable of dealing with her, you're an excuse and an embarrassment for any true dominant, Berry!"

"Your opinion is duly noted." she waved her hand in the air as she moved toward the exit door. "Contact customer service if you want to leave more feedback on my domination skills."

* * *

Rachel let go of her arm only as they entered the cab, heading home.

They were sitting side by side, on the back seat, in a tense silence. Quinn guessed Rachel was really angry with her, but she was adamant in her decision: she was not sorry for what she did, she would do it again, and again, and again, till the end of time if she needed to. She would never, ever, let Raphael lay a finger on her. And if that brought consequences, well, fuck the consequences, fuck Rachel, fuck the whole world! Until her very last breath she was not going to show that man an ounce of submission.

The driver stopped the car in front of their main gate. Rachel was staring out of the window and she didn't seem to realize they have arrived at her place. She was lost in her own mind and that, Quinn, thought, was not a good sign.

"Miss?" the driver called out.

"Uh? Oh, yes, sorry." She paid the man.

"Do you need me to walk you to the house? It's starting to rain." He offered.

Rachel looked at the droplets on the cab's window. "No, thank you, we're fine." She got out of the taxi, followed by Quinn.

The raindrops were small and light but the sound of a thunder, a few miles away, announced it was going to get worse soon. With the aid of the flickering lights of the street lamps Rachel looked for the house keys all the while avoiding any eye contact with Quinn. She hadn't acknowledged her existence since she let go of the blonde's arm. When they finally made it into the house the rain drops were getting thicker outside, and the storm was quickly approaching.

Rachel put down her purse on the table at the entrance and slowly took off her jacket. Quinn took off hers too. She was moving slowly, delaying every movement, so she could study Rachel and try to guess what was coming next, but the other woman was so quiet and silent that the only feeling Quinn got was that something very wrong was going on.

Finally Rachel went to sit on the couch, letting her head fall on the back and rubbing her eyes with her hands. Quinn realized she had a choice: either she would quietly climb upstairs and hide in the bedroom, and then Rachel would probably let her go and they would sleep in different rooms for that night, leaving them to talk about this for another day. Or she could face it right now.

She straightened her back and walked into the lounge, sitting down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Rachel didn't move. She heard Quinn coming in and she spoke with her eyes still closed.

"I asked you, Quinn. I asked you more than once."

"I know."

"I told you we didn't have to go."

Quinn didn't answer, she grasped the table looking at the floor. She had to give that to Rachel, she had failed her. Rachel had been very clear about that, she made sure Quinn didn't feel forced to go in any way. That it was all Quinn's decision.

"You assured me," Rachel went on speaking, "that you could handle it."

"I thought I could."

"You thought?"

"I've never meant to snap like that, Rachel. He got under my skin and I lost it and it was stupid, I'll give you that, but I'm not gonna say I'm sorry for what I did because I'm not."

"You're not sorry for making that scene in front of my bosses and my co-workers?" Rachel sat up looking directly at her for the first time since they left the party "for making me look stupid and incapable of handling you? For ruining every bit of reputation I earned in the last few years with just one single, big scene you put up? Are you not sorry for that?"

So, here it was, the big elephant in the room they so carefully avoided for the past weeks. Quinn looked up at Rachel, hoping to a tiny sign that there was still hope, but as far as she could see there was just a wall she could not break through. They pretended to forget what they were but, in the end, they were just a domme and her girl. Quinn was hers, a shiny prize she could brag about. A possession. Her slave.

"For god's sake, Quinn, speak up!" Rachel was yelling at her now. "Say something, anything!"

Quinn looked away and that gesture only pissed Rachel off even more.

"Fine!" She got up and Quinn side glanced at her while she went into the hallway. She heard her opening a drawer and picking up something and when she got back in the room she was holding a pair of cuffs.

Something inside Quinn broke. Her stomach disappeared along with all the air in the room, leaving her breathless. But she had been through enough claims to know better than just show her fears, tiredness or thought, so nothing, on the outside, changed.

Rachel paused in front of her, as if she was waiting for Quinn to say something, but when Quinn didn't she sighed, shaking her head, and moved beside the blonde. She put her wrists behind her back and clasped the cuffs with a loose chain on them. The restraint wasn't meant to be painful, just slightly uncomfortable, because Rachel planned on having her wear those for a very long time.

She moved in front of Quinn. "You won't use your hands until I say so." Her voice wcame out strong, stronger than she thought it would be.

Quinn didn't flinch as the cuffs clicked restraining her hands behind her back but now that Rachel was in front of her, she turned her head, slightly bending it to her side. She looked at Rachel with such anger and fiery that really hurt Rachel and made her all the angrier. Rachel turned around, breathing deeply.

"Do whatever you want just, don't use your hands." She said, and she heard Quinn leave the room.

* * *

Quinn sat on the bench, outside, trying to cool off. She could hear noises from inside the house. Rachel was in the kitchen. A plate broke, maybe a glass. Did she throw them at the wall? No, of course not, Rachel wasn't that kind of person and, besides, she didn't have the right to be so angry, Quinn was the one cuffed after all, no?

Quinn tugged, trying to break the thin chain that connected her cuffs. She wasn't really trying to escape, but some part of her was screaming, repeating for her not to put up with this crap. Rachel Berry, her Rachel, cuffed her. She finally did what Quinn always feared: she treated her like a simple slave. An object. A possession.

She shivered. A couple of raindrops hit her as the wind changed. It was not the best night to spent outside but she couldn't stay inside either. She brought her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her knees.

She lost track of time and didn't know how much it took for Rachel to join her outside. She sensed her presence on the porch, waiting by the door.

"You should come inside."

Quinn didn't answer.

"You'll catch a cold."

"I'm fine."

"Please."

Quinn rose, angry, hands still bound behind her back. "Is that an order Miss?" she hissed.

Rachel tensed. "Fine, stay here, get ill, whatever..." She ended quietly, resigned, and started walking away just to turn around after a couple of steps. "On second thought, come here!" She grabbed Quinn's arms and turning her around roughly she freed her hands. "You don't get it, do you?" she murmured struggling with the cuffs. She fumbled clumsily, being way too agitated to unlock the cuffs with the simple click that was needed. "You know everything, right? Better than me, than San, than... everyone! So what the hell, Quinn, do what you want, you always do anyway!"

The cuffs clicked and Quinn found herself free again. She looked up at Rachel but the other woman was quick to hide her face from view and walk down the hallway, slamming the door behind her back.


	8. Pride and Prejudice

Rachel sat in her car and started the engine. She didn't have a place to go, but staying at the house, with Quinn, was not an option. She was angry, hell, she was furious, but she was also very tired. Tired of always being the one who had to compromise, to understand, to give up something.

She drove without any particular destination in mind, just to get as far as possible from her house and from Quinn. It was past 4 o'clock when she reached the blinking traffic light in the middle of town, near the theatre. The streets were empty except for a few patrolling officers who looked at her through the window and, recognizing her, tipped their hats in a silent greeting. She turned right realizing that her seemingly aimless driving was actually taken her to a very specific place.

She parked on the street and opened the black gate that was always left unlocked.

"Figures." She said to herself, knowing too well how her friend never thought of the dangers outside.

She reached for the door and hesitated there. It was late, she was probably sleeping, it would have been rude, to say the least, to wake her up.

She walked a few steps back and looked up to her friend's bedroom windows, on the first floor. She picked a small rock from the ground and threw it at the wall near her bedroom, hoping to wake her up.

"Three times," she said to herself. "If she doesn't open the window by then I'll just go."

The first rock hit the wall with a soft *thump*. The second one slipped through her fingers while she was throwing it and ended on the glass with a weird parabolic trajectory. Rachel held her breath for a second, fearing the glass would shatter any moment. It didn't, and she picked up the third stone to throw it with more force, just on the wall, but again it didn't get her any result.

Rachel looked back at the street, seeing part of her car through the gate, then back again at the window.

"Last one, I swear." she told no one in particular. She picked up another stone and again she aimed at the wall. It collided with the wooden surface with a loud *thud* that rose the attention of a dog in the garden to her left.

He barked, annoyed at the presence wich ruined his sleep, and while she was trying to reassure the dog that she was in fact a good person and not a burglar, a sleepy Juliet opened the window and looked down.

"Rachel?"

"Oh. Hi."

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

Rachel tried to think about a polite and credible explanation, but before she could come up with any, Juliet spoke again.

"Were you throwing stones at my window? Cause I was dreaming about a lame teenager lover who wanted to serenade me and caught my attention that way!"

Rachel smiled. Juliet had always had the weirdest dreams.

"I'm sorry, it was a bad idea, I should get going."

"Wait!" Juliet sighed, rubbing her eyes, "I'm coming down."

"So, I take it you were not just passing by at 5 in the morning, right?" Juliet was making some hot tea for herself and Rachel. She put the kettle on the stove while taking out a box full of tea bags with different flavors.

"I needed to see a friendly face."

Juliet turned around. Her hair was combed into a loose ponytal and she was wearing a pink tanktop and gray pants that were her favoruite PJs. She walked over to Rachel and cupping her cheeck she gently lifted the brunette's face.

"Are you ok, babe?"

Rachel sighed, enjoying the feeling. It had been a while since someone took care of her and she longed every soft touch she could get. Quinn didn't touch her like that. She had her reasons, and she was trying, so Rachel couldn't hold a grudge for that, but still, a loving touch, a real touch, was something that she missed.

She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears.

"No."

"What happened?"

The kettle on the burner let out a highpitched whistle and Juliet turned around to grab it and pour the hot water in their cups.

They sat silently for a while, soaking the teabags and looking at the water as it got darker.

"It was always so easy with you." Rachel spoke first, putting a spoonful of sugar in her cup.

"What?"

"Being with you. You always seemed to get me, every thought, every wish."

Juliet put a strand of hair behind her ear. "And Quinn doesn't get you?"

"We fought," Rachel explained. "...sort of."

"Sort of." Juliet repeated. "Care to add some more information to that statement?"

And so Rachel started talking about her and Quinn, about how things kept running at different paces and she fought hard just to stay on the same page with the blonde. She told her about the party, and Raphael, of course, and her reaction when they got home, how Quinn failed to understand what she had done and how badly she reacted when Rachel cuffed her.

"Wow." Juliet sighed.

"Right?"

"No, honey, that was a sarcastic wow. It doesn't mean I agree with you."

Rachel looked up from the cup she was still holding in her hands.

"I was wondering when it would happen. You two arguing. To be honest I though it would happen sooner. You kind of surprised me there." Juliet said sipping from her tea and glancing up at Rachel.

"You expected this?" Rachel questioned, surprised.

"Of course I was expecting it, like any other person with a little bit of sense in their head would. Ok, don't get me wrong, Rachel," she raised her head sensing one of Rachel's long ramblings was coming on, "I know you two love each other, even a blind person could see it, and love is a good thing to have in a relationship but it's not enough to make it work. "

The pouty face she got in return made Juliet smile.

One of the things she loved about Rachel Berry was that she could be incredibly deep and incredibly childish at the same time. She could be subitly insinuating you're a dumb ass with the longest phrase ever pronounced and than, a second later, innocently asking you what was a 69. ( _"Oh, that? How come an image of two human bodies interlaced and having a sexual intercourse remind of a stupid number... oh [slight blush] I get it now... but it doesn't change the fact that it's still a silly name!"_ )

"I'm going to ask you again, Rachel: what are you doing here? Really."

When she used to have a hard time, at work or with one of her fake flirts for the magazines' sake, Rachel Berry went back to her house and opened Juliet's door, going into her room. If Juliet was sleeping she would wake up because of the light entering her room, and if she was simplyiresting she would get up and walk over to Rachel to cup her face with both of her hands and kiss her.

Their kiss would quickly become hungry and passionate and Rachel would often bite her, marking Juliet as hers, while they would make love over and over again.

It seemed so long ago.

"Go back home, Rachel." Juliet stated quietly.

"I can't. Not now."

The redhead sighed and moved away. Rachel heard her pacing around the house but she didn't turn. She was still trying to handle the idea of her arriving there just to fuck Juliet till she couldn't move anymore. Was she really like that anymore?

"Here." Juliet said throwing a pillow and a blanket on the couch. "You can sleep here if you want."

Rachel nodded, without saying a word.

"Tomorrow it will seem easier, I promise." Juliet kissed her temple goodnight and left for her room, leaving Rachel in the kitchen, sipping the last tea in her cup, staring blankly at the ceiling, knowing that sleep, that night, was not really gonna be an option for her.

Morning came way too early for Rachel who had just fallen asleep on the couch when Juliet came down the stairs and into the kitchen. She was trying to be as silent as possible, but after a few minutes a tired Rachel showed up at the kitchen door.

"Hey there. Sleep well?"

"No really."

"Headache?" Juliet asked.

"Yep."

"Here, I thought you might have it so I came down prepared." She threw a box of aspirins on the table.

"You know me so well." Rachel said, popping one pill out of the box. "Remind me again: why aren't we together anymore?"

"Because you don't love me."

"Really? I'm pretty sure I have feelings for you."

"Yes, and they're called caring-for-a-friend. With the occasional sex involved."

"Ah! Is that what they're called?" She played dumb. "Kind of a long name."

"Come on, eat something so those pills can work quickly. I want you in your right mind if we have to talk."

"Do we?"

"Look, I get that you love your sparring routine in the morning; getting your debate skills in line for the day ahead, but I have a job and I'm actually required to show up for it, so I don't really have time for this. Can we skip this part?"

The reminder of the new life Juliet had hit Rachel. She was right, she was not her assistant anymore, she worked for a new dominant, the one who was probably going to claim her likely sooner than later.

"How is he? Your new dominant I mean."

"Eric is fine. Gentle, funny, a little bit jealous but I like that."

Rachel nodded. "Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"And do you love him?"

"Love is such a heavy word to use, Rachel."

"Still... do you love him?"

Juliet smirked. "Probably, yes. But it's too soon to tell."

"I wish you well, you know that, don't you?" Rachel felt the need to apologize. She was well aware that for a lot of years she kept Juliet bound to her even if she always knew she didn't love her. She had given up on love and thought that Juliet was the best she could achieve: friendship with benefits, which was not bad, but it was not great either.

"Don't do that." Juliet lifted her head to look her in the eyes, knowing where Rachel's mind was wandering. "I didn't regret anything."

She quickly pecked her cheeck to reassure her, and then went back to cooking breakfast.

"So, how about we start that due conversation?" She resumed. "I had this question on my mind all night, it kept bouncing in and out of my conscience. It's something that I don't really get." Juliet began looking for biscuits in the top cupboard.

"What is it?"

"You said you were angry when you came home last night, right?"

"Of course I was. She just ruined my reputation in front of all my co-workers."

Juliet ignored her lash-out. "And you knew you were angry, so why didn't you wait until morning to sort it out? You know better than to act as dominant when you are like that."

"It was her choiche, actually. She came to me. I was hoping she would go straight to the bedroom, but when she came to me things got out of hand."

"Why didn't you just told her you were going to talk in the morning?"

"I don't know," Rachel hesitated, "I guess I was just really angry."

"Wrong answer."

The brunette stared at her. "Sure, how could I forget that you know my feelings better than I do."

"As a matter of fact I do, Rach, and I do know that you weren't angry. It's just that your pride got hurt and you couldn't handle it."

"It so not like that."

"Of course it is. You don't like to admit it but you are very proud Rachel. You glow when people compliment you, and you can't help but show off when you know you do - or have - something special. You fought to get where you are now both as an actress and as a dominant, and when Quinn jeopardized your position with her behaviour you had to prove to yourself you were someone worthy of that reputation you got. So you acted blindly, imposing your control over her, without considering the consequences."

Rachel shook her head. "It was not like that."

"It was."

"No!" She repeated loudly. "I'm not some egocentric brat. I'm..." her voice trailed off. Was she? Did she act out of her pride only? Did she forget the basic rules she always imposed on herself? Did she really fall that low? "Shit!"

"Look," Juliet took her hand between her own, "you made a mistake, she made a mistake; consider it even. These things happen to a couple, especially to a new one. You still have to settle down."

"We're not a young couple." Rachel objected.

"Yes you are. What you had in school is a nice memory and, sure, the feelings might still be there, but you're two grown up women now, you have lives, jobs, friends, experiences... in other words you both have a past and you have to deal with it."

"I know that."

Juliet's tongue clicked in frustration. "You keep saying that, Rach, you keep repeating that you know but I don't believe you."

"I'm not stupid, ok? Proud? Fine, I might be, but stupid? No way!" Rachel was getting worked up and it was barely 8 in the morning. Her head pounded and the aspirin she took was taking its sweet time to kick in. Fucking lazy pill. "I know she has issues and I can work it out."

"Sure, it seems to have been working just fine up till now!" Juliet whispered, leaning on the sink with a biscuit in her hand. "And besides, I was not talking about her, I was talking more about you!"

Rachel stared at her, bewildered. "Excuse me?"

"Yes little princess, time to face the truth. You chased after Quinn for more than ten years and now that you finally have her you can't stand the fact that she's not like your perfect fantasy."

"Chased after her? You seem to forget that I gave up on her. I was living my life. With YOU."

"No, no, don't even try to play that card with me, missy, I love you too much to let you hide anymore in your lies. You know very well that you never gave up on her. Quinn has always been a consistent presence in your life. You mourned her loss every single day. You idolized her. She was your princess, your soulmate, your one and true love. You dreamt about her, about how you two could reach the perfect balance. You pictured yourself to be her savior. And don't try to deny it!"

It was true. Even when she gave up on the thought of getting back into Quinn's life, Rachel always hoped, in some part of her mind, that the two of them could find their way back together.

"You were the one who pushed me to look for her."

"Of course I was. I cared for you and I still do. You were obviously in love and it was the right thing to do. I didn't lie to myself like you're doing now. I never pretended that we were something different than what we were, Rachel, while you seem to have lost contact with reality and you keep on living in your own fantasy."

A strange silence fell between them.

"You never spoke to me like that before." Rachel said softly. Juliet was her closest friend, the one she could always rely on, the one that never betrayed, the one that never pretended, the one that always got her back.

"You never gave me a reason before." The other woman answered quietly.

"Do you want me to feel guilty for what I did to you? Is that why you're saying all these things to me?"

Juliet sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table. "We always knew we weren't 'the one' for each other, Rach, and as I told you many times I don't regret anything. Besides, you should really stop thinking that the dominant is the one who carries on the relationship, because it's actually the slave who does it. I wouldn't have done anything if I didn't wanted to do it, so stop acting like you forced a bonding on me. We were fine. We cared for each other and we were amazing in bed!"

Rachel chuckled. "We were."

"Outstanding!" Juliet smiled "And take comfort in the thought that if you career ever hits rock bottom you could always come back to me and we could make some pretty awesome porn movies." She joked.

Rachel laughed and that moment made her loose control enough to let a single tear slip down her cheek. Damn. It was just eight in the morning, for God's sake!

Juliet reached for her, brushing away the tear with her thumb. "Look, babe, it's going to be alright as long as you don't carry the weight of this relationship just on your shoulders. Talk to her, stop smothering her like she's some unempaired child, because I'm pretty sure she can hold her own. Let her know what bothers you. She might know it but she needs to hear it from you. And, for the love of God, stop pretending with each other that you're not mistress and slave and talk about submission, or this thing will eat both of you alive."

A light knock on the back door interrupted their chat and a blonde man walked in without waiting for an answer.

"Hey honey."

"Uhm." Juliet placed a hand on his chest preventing him from kissing her. He frowned and just then noticed the other person in the room.

"Oh! Rachel, hi! I didn't see you."

Rachel waved her hand with an embarrassed smile. She met Eric on the set. At that time he was working as a cameraman but throughout the years he went through a lot of jobs: security, assistant director, secretary, gardener (yes, even that), cook, and handyman for unknown tasks in the costume department.

"Am I interrupting something?" He eyed Juliet who smiled back at him.

"Girly morning chit-chat. We talked about nail polish, what's the new black this season and the eternal dilemma: boxers or briefs? I voted for boxers, just so you know. Tiny, stretchy, black boxers."

He hugged her dragging her closer. "I'll keep that in mind." He pecked at her lips, smiling. "Do you need a ride to work?"

Juliet looked back at Rachel sitting at the table. "Give me five minutes, will you?"

He nodded and waved his hand at Rachel on his way out of the kitchen.

The brunette took her clue to leave. "I should get going."

"No." Juliet stopped her. "You should go take a long bath. Sleeping on the couch doesn't do wonders to your beauty, honey." Rachel sniffed supressing a smile. "Then you will rehearse a nice speech as you always do, and you will look for the right words to say to Quinn when you will go back home. You will find a perfect elaborate way to tell her that you're sorry, and you will reharsal so it will be perfectly clear that you two need to start over. You will not take all the blame for what happened, and you will not let her take all the blame neither. You will both be responsible and act as grown ups for a change."

"Yes miss." Rachel smiled.

"Good girl." smirked Juliet approaching her and embracing the shorter woman in a tight hug. She held her until she felt Rachel's head relax a little and lean on her shoulder. "And if she doesn't get you, or if you fight again, you can always come back to sleep here on my couch. Ok?"

Rachel tightened her hold. "Thank you" She whispered.

"I will always be here for you, babe. Remember that!" She kissed her on the head and let Rachel slip away from the embrace. "I'll call you later, ok? And in the mean time consider this your own home. Do whatever you want."

Juliet took her jeans jacket from the hanger near the door and blew her a kiss before heading off to work.


	9. It was once a perfect day

Santana tuned off the radio in her car. The constant voice of the speaker and some random singers were distracting her from her rage and worries and she didn't want that. She wanted to be angry, although she didn't know at whom to direct her anger.

Should it be Brittany? Maybe. And it would have been fair since it was all her fault, right? Her fingers clenched around the wheel and someone honked at her. She politely told him to go fuck himself sideways.

That morning started in the most wonderful way. Brittany was sleeping by her side, hugging her, and she had this quizzical look on her face as she was dreaming one of her crazy dreams. She was stunning, innocent, and funny even while she was sleeping; she was the only thing she wanted in the whole world, the one she loved more than her own life, the one she always loved. Her one true soul mate.

Since Quinn's claiming Santana though a lot. There were no obstacles anymore in the way of her claiming Britt and she really wanted to make it official. It was just a matter of time and place now, because she wanted to do it in a very special way. But on that morning, seeing her girlfriend like that, all her plans vanished: she wanted Brittany to be hers as soon as possible, and screw the fancy details.

As soon as she made the decision she was barely able to contain herself. She was so happy, and so relieved, that she actually smiled all the way through her breakfast.

"Are you sure you're ok San? You look stoned."

"Sort of, I guess." She murmured sipping her coffee.

"What?"

"Nothing sweetie, I just had a funny dream."

"Really? Me too. There was a beautiful city underwater, but there weren't fishes or mermaids, just regular people who breathed through a piece of paper in front of their mouth, and I could see their lips moving, but I couldn't understand if they were breathing or talking to me." Brittany dipped her biscuit into her latte. "What about yours?"

"I'll tell you later, ok? I need to go out now." She kissed her girlfriend and took her car keys.

"Oh, San, don't forget to buy biscuits, please. I've finished them again."

"I'll buy enough biscuits to last you a lifetime, sweetie." Santana said closing the door, headed for her car.

She sang along with the radio all the way to the Claiming Office. She knew she could just send in the papers but she wanted to do it in person so she could have one of her chit chats with the employee, and speed things up considerably. But that's when a day so perfect took a turn for the worst.

Maybe it was not Brittany's fault, not entirely at least.

It was that reckless employee too, who was careless and let the screen turned halfway towards Santana, letting her see the records for Brittany's claims. There was the first one, Andrew was his name; he was the guy who tried to claim her Britt as soon as she was available. Not that he was interested in her, it was just because of a stupid bet he had with his friends.

"It was nothing!" Brittany explained to her more than once. "He's a nice guy, it looked more like a date than anything else. He was nervous and I kissed him goodbye in the end. That's it San, come on, don't be jealous."

Santana looked him up anyway. She wanted to see who had the guts to try claiming her girlfriend, but when she finally found him she knew immediately that Brittany was right. He was the gayest gay ever: no threats there, and she left him without even having to beat the hell out of him.

The second entry was anoder known name: Brad. He tried to claim her at the end of their two years, the period when dominants and submissives that have previously known each other were not supposed to meet or have any kind of contact. At that time she had no rights at all over Brittany, she wasn't even supposed to see her, so she couldn't pretend to keep other dominants away, but they made it through two years without any 'accidents' and she thought they could really make it. Until Brad showed up.

He saw B when she was working as a teacher in a kindergarten. He asked her out but she refused, so he asked for a claim.

He was not a nice guy.

When Santana went to meet Brittany a few days after that, the blonde girl was a nervous wreck. It took some effort but she finally had Britt open up to her and talk about what happened during the claim.

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're not." Brittany approached her. "Please, don't make me regret telling you. Please." She was begging now, her eyes filled with tears. Santana was on the verge of crying herself and she held them back just because she knew it would break Britt for good.

She never told Brittany what she did after that. She never told her how she tracked down Brad and hit his car with her own at a crossroad, dragged him out of it t and pulled his pants down, placing a sharp knife to his exposed groin.

"What the fuck?"

She hit him once, while he was still confused, and then she pressed the knife again to his balls.

"Take the money, the car, whatever you want," he said, "but leave me alone."

"I want the cock that raped my girlfriend," she hissed into his ear. "My beautiful, innocent, positive, girlfriend, who you tried to claim a few days ago and raped because she turned you down on a date."

"You're crazy, I didn't rape anyone! She's just a fucking slave and I had a regular claim, I didn't do anyth..."

Santana punched him into his side. "Don't you dare give me that slave crap! You're not a dominant, you're just a dickhead, you're not worthy of even licking her feet!"

She was onto him, pressing his body so that his back was arched on the car.

Santana Lopez was never afraid to take things to the physical level. She had her fair share of fights and brawls and was known for never backing off but, despite her reputation, Santana always knew where the limit was and she always knew how to keep control, allowing herself to go just as far as she could, just right up to the line, but never crossing it. Except that one time she felt like she was loosing it, her mind dark and clouded with rage

"You're a crazy bitch."

"You don't even know the half of it." She pressed the knife at the base of his cock.

"I-I will report you."

"No, you won't, and you know why?" She pressed down on the knife even more cutting his skin and making him wince. "Because I have friends, and if you do as much as walk into a reporting facility I will know it the moment you step in and I'll make sure that you won't step out of it the same way. Do you understand me?"

"You're nuts!"

"I am, but I'm also a very coherent person, and I keep all my promises, dickhead, so listen carefully, because I'm promising you this: go near my girl  _ever_ again and I will cut off your useless worm and make you eat it, I will shove it down your throat and then sit watching you bleed to death."

The message sank in and spread widely where it needed. Nobody approached Britt ever again, or at least that's what Santana thought until that morning.

Because there was a third line, and the claiming took place just six month before.

* * *

She drove to Quinn and Rachel's place because she needed her best friend. She didn't have a plan, she didn't expect any answer or deep insight, she just wanted Quinn to know and maybe tell her she was being a jealous moron and everything was going to be fine.

She wasn't mad about the claiming attempt itself, well, she was mad at the idea of someone else laying his hands on her girlfriend, but what angered her the most was that she didn't know anything about it. Why didn't Brittany tell her?

She was trying to recall the time period of the claim. She was busy, having to deal with a couple of clients with tax problems, the files of a starting enterprise and the usual stuff and, of course, the constant Quinn-problem.

Could it have been that it slipped through her fingers without her even noticing it? Could Britt have had a claiming without her even realizing she was gone for a whole day?

When she entered the house she immediately sensed something was off. It was too silent.

In Rachel Berry's home silence was not a considered option unless there was an extremely serious situation going on or if it was bed time, of course. But when she arrived it was mid morning, so there was just one possible explanation: troubles.

She walked through the hallway, calling Quinn and Rachel's names and getting no answer back. More and more worried she walked through the kitchen into the garden, through the back door, and there she found Quinn, sitting on a bench, chin resting on her knee as she hugged her leg.

"Your house get scary when it's silent, you know that?"

Quinn turned around more surprised by the use of the possessive adjective than by Santana's voice. She never thought about that place like  _her_ home. In her mind that was always Rachel's house, merely a place where she happened to crash.

"Where is the dwarf anyway?"

"I don't know."

"Is she at work?"

"I said I don't know San!" Quinn repeated a little louder.

"Hey, calm down girl, It was just a question." She sat down on the bench next to Quinn.

It was a nice warm day, the kind of day when you can just lay in the sun and let the world pass you by, and Rachel and Quinn's garden was a perfect place for that. It had a couple of tall trees and a vegetable garden with a few plants that seemed in desperate need for a real gardener to look after them. Looking around Santana recognized a pole that seemed a little out of place. It was the one where Rachel tied Quinn on their second claiming attempt.

A cat jumped over onto the fence and graciously walked over it, waving his ass like a professional hooker. God, do even cats want sex these days? Was that what happened during Britt's claim? And maybe that was the reason she never told her about it, because she banged some stranger and she liked it. Maybe sex between them wasn't enough anymore for B, maybe she needed something different and more exciting than Santana. Oh God, she really did need to get it off her chest!

"Are you going to tell me what is going on so we can move on to more pressing matters?" She asked, knowing Quinn's mood too well to start with her own problems right away.

"Nothing is going on."

The cat jumped off the fence and went sniffing the plants in the garden, but his nose twitched and he turned away with a look of superiority on his feline face.

"Yeah, sure. Nothing is going on, I'm the gentlest princess everyone wants as friend and snow tastes like butterflies, right?"

"Leave it, Lopez. This is not the right moment."

But telling Santana Lopez to leave it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull: you got her attention. And not in a nice way.

"God. What did you do this time?" She asked sighing tiredly.

"Why?" her voice was louder now, "Why is it always have to be me?"

"Good question." The cat turned around showing a mild interest in what was going on between the two women. "Why does it always  _have_ to be you, Fabray?" If Quinn thought she could play the victim that day she thought wrong. Santana had enough on her plate and no intention of letting shit be thrown at her. "Ever wondered why every time I come across a situation deep in shit I find you around?"

"Fuck off!"

"Yeah, sure, here it comes your good-for-all-times answer. Fuck the world, I'm the only one that matters."

Santana got up wich raised the cat's interest even more and he tilted his head looking at the scene. She came here hoping to find a friend to talk to, but instead she found yet another to an endless list of problems that Quinn Fabray brought upon herself and into Santana's life.

"Ok, let me guess here. You said slash did something really stupid that fucked up your relationship with Berry, right?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Oh, sorry, my mistake: you said slash did something really stupid that fucked up your relationship with Berry but you don't realize that yet."

"Go away, Lopez!"

"Why? So you can cry some more over yourself, and how lonely you are, and how nobody understands you, you poor little chosen one whose destiny turned against her."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then enlighten me, oh mighty Fabray!"

"She tied me up, ok? She..."

"Did she hurt you?" Asked Santana with a serious look on her face.

"No."

"Then what the fuck are we talking about here?"

"She treated me like a slave!"

Santana couldn't hide an incredulous smile stretching across her face. "For God's sake, Quinn, you  _are_ a slave, you are  _her_ slave, when are you gonna understand that? "

"That was not..."

Santana shushed her with a finger. "Hear me out Fabray, because I'm going to tell you something very important. You, Quinn Fabray, are a selfish bitch!" She stressed timing every word prodding Quinn's shoulder with her finger. "You think the world revolves around you. It's always  _your_ pain,  _your_ suffering,  _your_ drama. Do you ever think that if a friend shows up at your house it's maybe because she needs you? Do you ever think that if you screw up with some dominants your owner is going to pay the price too, because she's the first responsible for your actions? No, of course not! You're Quinn Fabray so everything has to revolve around you! Well, guess what, fucking chosen one, you're not as special as you think!"

Santana stepped closer lowering her voice to a menacing tone. "You think you're tough and strong because you survived for ten years on your terms but this isn't being strong, baby. Being strong means compromising for the sake of the ones you love, it means bowing your head, from time to time, it means shutting up when you don't want to, and it means also giving up something if the ones you love ask you to do it." Santana turned around. "I'm sick and tired of your attitude, Fabray, you live in your own world, blind to everything else." She went for the door without turning back. "I hope in your perfect black and white world you won't get lonely too soon." She said finally as she left punching the hallway wall on her way out.

* * *

Santana Lopez didn't go home straight away. She aimelessly drove for a while, just trying to control her anger that was threatening to explode. God, she wished she knew how to hit a baseball now, so she could close herself in a batting cage and hit, hit, and hit again until she was too sore to continue.

Driving wasno good. Instead of calming her nerves she found herself stepping harder on the gas pedal, going well past the limit. She passed a school with two kids kissing on the stairs up front and cursed them for no other reason than their young happiness.

 _'Calm down San!'_  she warned herself, but she knew she wouldn't listen to her own advice. Her mind was stuck in a loop, making her face again and again the betrayal of the two people she cared for the most. Was it too much to ask to be taken care of for once? Was it too much to just want someone to lift the burden from her shoulders, hug her and tell her everything was going to be ok?

"Fuck!" She hit the brakes hard when an elderòly woman crossed the street on her bike.

The woman turned around pointing a finger at her.

"Do you know what the speed limit is kid? I should report you I..." she stopped when she saw Santana covering her eyes with shaking hands. The woman got down from her bike and knocked on the car window. "Hey kid, you ok?"

The immediate danger had broken the line of her thought, but now the adrenaline rush was causing her body to shake like a leaf.

_Fuck, fuck fuck! I almost ran over that lady!_

"Look, I'm fine, really." The old woman tried to reassure Santana when she didn't answer her first try and this time the Latina rolled down the window.

"I'm sorry miss." She said apologetically. "Are you ok?"

"I'm a tough one kiddo, you didn't even make me blink."

"I'm so sorry, miss, so sorry I..."

She eyed worriedly the girl, her pale skin and the way her hands still trembled

"Shut up and get out of there, little one, you need some air." She opened the car door and helped her out but as soon as she stepped outside Santana faltered, almost falling down. "Here, sit down for a moment." The old lady took her hand, pulling her down gently.

Someone, behind them, honked and the old woman gestured angrily at him to just overtake and get over with it.

"Asshole." She muttered as he passed over, making Santana wink briefly before a wave of nausea hit her, making her groan.

"Keep your head between your knees, kid, you will feel better in a moment." She pushed Santana's head down, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. "There is no need to be so upset. I shouldn't have yelled at you, I was a terrible driver myself back in the days. I should know better."

Another car arrived and passed them by. The driver slowed down to look at them and when the woman nodded, signaling they were ok, he smiled politely and moved on.

"You know, if an old lady like me can make you feel like this, kid, you should probably work on you growing a tougher skin."

Santana chuckled. It was weird, for Santana, having someone think she was too sensitive or soft. People usually thought of her in a different way, one that went along with some of the nicknames she earned during the years, such as "The Crazy Bitch" or "The Devil's Daughter"

"I'm not that sensitive ma'am. I'm just having a very bad day." She tried to raise her head but she felt the woman's hand pushed her back down again.

"Don't be stupid now, give it a moment." She instructed and Santana complied without further complaint.

She fixed her gaze on the concrete floor beneath her, a sad smile appearing on her face. A stranger was willing to take care of her more than her so-called best friend. So maybe it wasn't her fault, maybe she wasn't so fucking unlovable as they made her feel, maybe it was just that Quinn Fabray was a fucking selfish bitch and her girlfriend a liar.

She raised her head, eyes closed, leaning on the car.

"Do you live far away from here, kid?"

"I'm not heading home." Santana answered.

"You should, you're in no condition of going to work like this."

"I'm not heading to work either. I'm just..."

What? What was she doing? Where was she going?

"Wandering around." The woman finished for her, and Santana nodded. "It's going to be ok, you know?"

Santana turned around to face her, surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Whatever is bothering you," the woman explained, "it's going to turn out ok. You're worrying yourself over nothing."

"What are you, some sort of medium or something?" She asked with an ironic smile.

"Just someone who has lived through enough to know that." She replied. "Trust me when I tell you this, kiddo. Things have their own way of working out for the better."

"And if they don't?"

"And if they don't, you grow a pair and kick their asses till they do. But it won't get to that," she smiled offering her hand to help Santana up. "Now you go back into your car, you drive up to Strawberry's park, you find a quiet place, maybe near the pond where the ducks are and, you lie down and close your eyes. You'll probably sleep for a while and when you wake up, if you're still angry, you'll go into the woods, pick up a branch and start hitting a tree until you have no more strength. And if it still isn't enough you go find a bar and you get drunk. But then, kid, then you go home and you face whatever is bothering you, ok?"

With some slight hesitation she put her hands around Santana's neck, pulling her in for a hug. "You're going to be ok." She whispered into her ear.

Santana returned the embrace holding the woman's waist. "Why are you doing this?" It felt underserved, it was a kind gesture out of nowhere and no one did something so kind wanting nothing in return.

"You're my daily good deed kid." the woman replied letting her go. "Now I get to be an asshole for the rest of the day if I want to. It's my gain."

She smiled picking up her bike and crossing the street as she was supposed to do half an hour ago.

* * *

She parked the car on the street, knowing that, if she brought it in the noise would have woken B up. It was almost 2 a.m. and Santana wasn't up for a fight with her. She just needed to sleep, and possibly to wake up in someone else's life.

She opened the door as silently as she could. All the lights in the house were off but the big windows and the glass doors let the street light in so she could easily move without tripping over anything. She was just letting the keys drop on the cabinet next to the door, contemplating the idea of lying down to sleep on the couch, when Britt appeared at the end of the corridor, hair pulled up in a loose ponytail, gray shorts and a white tee too big that hung on her shoulders.

"I was about to call the police." Arms limps by her sides B looked relived and angry at the same time as she approached Santana.

"Sorry." Santana walked into the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the fridge. She heard the quiet footsteps of Britt's naked feet on the floor. "It's late B. Go to bed."

"What happened?"

The Latina drank from the bottle, blatantly ignoring her girlfriend.

"San?" Britt tried again, "Talk to me, please." She put a hand on her hip turning the other woman around, letting it rest there, closing the space between them.

Santana's gaze was fixed on the bottle, drops of water running down from the plastic on her hand. "Not now, please."

This was exactly what Santana tried to avoid: close contact with Britt. She was still so angry, so confused, and she knew that if she tried to talk in that moment, when she was still upset, she would end up saying something she would later regret. She tried to walk past the blonde but Brittany stepped in her way, blocking her. With a single, fluid movement, she put her arms around Santana's neck in a warm embrace.

Santana was still so angry and confused that she almost fought her off pushing the blonde away, but it was only a metter of a moment; then the feeling that always came with B's hugs kicked in. That relaxing sensation, like a weight lifting from her chest, an inner peace that spread from Britt's hands to her back through her skin and muscles, until it sank in every cell of her body. She felt her rage subside, slowly, leaving an empty space that sadness came to fill in. She gave up, letting her forehead rest on Britt's shoulder.

Brittany held her, sorrowfullly noticing that Santana wasn't returning the embrace. Not out of affection, not even as a cry for help, trying to cling to her like she sometimes did.

"When?" she asked, pushing her feelings aside. The blonde could feel her girlfriend's hot breath trespassing the thin layer of her shirt warming her skin. "San?" she asked again.

"Saturday." The answer came in a low voice and Britt knew, if she didn't already, that something was really wrong with Santana.

In the last years they rarely had to resolve to the "talking truce" as a mean to calm down before saying something hurtful they would regret, and even when they did the truce never lasted more than a couple of days. But now Santana was asking not for two, not three but four days before talking to her.

"Ok." Britt agreed. Not that she wanted to, but they had rules, and rules were there to help you in moments of need and uncertainty like that. And the rule was simple: the one who didn't want to talk was the one who got to decide for how long could the conversation be postponed. Within a reasonable timeframe, of course.

"Saturday." Britt confirmed, concealing her worry with a tired smile. She wasn't happy letting her girlfriend to brood on her problems without helping her, but if there was something she had learned during the years, it was that sometimes Santana needed her space. Period. Not 'ifs' or 'buts', no question asked.

She let her fingers trail down her girlfriend's arms, down to her hand, trying to pull her along to their bedroom, and when she felt Santana resisting, standing still, she tried to convince her by talking to her like to a stubborn child.

"Come on, San, it's late and you need to sleep."

The Latina let her fingers slip from Brittany's and her arm fell limply back to her side.

"I think I'll take a nap on the couch."

"San..."

"No B, it's ok", the Latina interrupted her. "Like you said, it's already late. I want to turn on the stereo and put on some calming music. I think it will help me sleep sooner."

Britt was always able to see through Santana's lies and this time was no exception. She chewed her bottom lip. She didn't like this. Not at all.

"Ok. But please, take a blanket, ok?" The blonde kissed her cheek goodnight and walked in the bedroom barely keeping herself from crying.

* * *

Britt used to say she had psychic powers.

People laughed at that, thinking she was joking, and when they realized she wasn't, they looked at her differently, like she was a nut job. The only one who always believed her was Santana.

"It makes sense", she said to her when Brittany first told her about them. "I always thought you were magical, somehow, it just seems to fit that you have psychic powers or something."

Santana was the first one, probably the only one, who truly believed her.

Britt was convinced she inherited her powers from her cat, lord Tubbington, for two reasons: first, he always seemed to know when she was sad and he would always crawl in her lap, purring and rubbing his mug over her, to comfort her; second, because Lord Tubbington himself told her so when he came to her in a dream, a few days after he passed away.

Truth to be told, though, her powers didn't manifest until she started to feel something for Santana. Lord Tubbington, who had a habit of showing up n her dreams by then, told her Santana was her trigger, that the feelings she had for the girl were the ones that let her powers manifest at its fullest.

It was weird at first, when she realized she could literally see the other's feelings in shapes and colors, but she got used to it pretty soon. She was able to see the bright yellow of Santana's lustful thoughts shining through her eyes, and the purple pain that Quinn tried to hold back pushing it back behind her hard facade.

When she told Quinn she could see her pain, like literally see it, the other girl had tried to rationalize it.

"You're an emphatic person Britt, it means that you can feel the other's feeling, you know what's on their mind, you can tune in to their emotions. It doesn't mean your cat gave you superpowers." But when she saw the hurt look on her face she retracted. "Or, you know... maybe you have powers, I don't really know Britt. There are so many things our minds might do. You might have psychic abilities or you might be a new stage of human evolution for all I know."

Britt still smiled at that thought. Like if human mutants could exist. That was pretty silly from Quinn but still, she had decided to trust her and that was important for Brittany. That was what friends did for each other.

Her ability was stronger with the people she loved. That was the reason she was always able to comfort Quinn when she needed it, even if she didn't know what had upset her, and that was the reason she could always see past Santana's cockiness, and her self-imposed attitude.

It was an unfair advantage in their relationship, Britt was aware of that, but she made a point of using her powers just for the greater good and never abuse them. There were some times though, like this evening, when she wished she wasn't able to see others' emotions, and especially Santana's

She stared at the ceiling of their bedroom, her hand on the cold spot besides her, where Santana was supposed to be but was, instead, empty. She wished she couldn't see through her girlfriend's lie and that she didn't feel her anguish and fear. She wished she didn't see the black sticky bubbles boiling inside Santana's thoughts, something she had never seen before, not quite like this at least. There were times when her girlfriend was worried sick about Quinn, and her thoughts had been as black as they were now, but they weren't boiling, they weren't so hot and scary, they weren't so sticky and... angry.

Britt sighed rolling onto her side staring pit the window. Was Santana already asleep? Should she get up and check on her? Maybe not. She had agreed on giving her time and checking on her would have felt like poking. No, right, she would have to wait because there were rules and because it was the right thing.

But waiting sucked!


	10. Apologies

Quinn's eyes darted to the door when she heard it opening. She was sitting on the couch, hugging her own leg. The house was completely silent and every tiny noise seemed to echo within the empty rooms.

"Hey." Rachel walked in and sat down on the couch in front of her.

Quinn's stomach sank when she noticed how rested and calm she looked. It was something past 5pm and up until then she had had a hell of a day: she had fought with her best friend and lost herself in thoughts she didn't like to have. She was tired, angry, depressed, feeling guilty and regretful at the same time. And here sat, Rachel Berry, looking absolutely gorgeous, perfect hair and shiny eyes and... just look at her! A goddess in flash and bones. How could she even be like this? Why wasn't she wrecked like Quinn was, torn inside out from their first real fight?

"I didn't know if you were coming back last night. Or if, even."

Quinn's aloof statement was meant not to give away any of those feelings she was bottleing up inside. The worry of not knowing where Rachel was, the anger of being left in the uncertainty of it all and, of course, the topic of their fight itself. Then there came the regret for this whole situation they ended up in… this crossroad of their once beautiful relationship. And there also was the tiredness, dripping from her voice, as she fought to keep at bay the headache that came from crying herself to a restless sleep the night before, and the nightmares that came with that.

"I slept at Juliet's. I didn't... I wasn't..." Rachel worried her lower lip. So much for having rehearsed her come back home scene. "I just thought it was better that way."

Quinn's stomach clenched as her mind spun with horrible images of Rachel and Juliet, her previous sub and her lover. Long red hair entangling with Rachel's as they sank down on a bed, hands exploring their naked skin. Quinn looked away, closing her eyes.

"It was so kind of her to let me sleep on her couch, although I'd rather not repeat the experience. I haven't slept at all."

Quinn silently thanked Rachel for saying that out loud and stopping the images in her head. Did she do it on purpose? Did she know that mentioning Juliet's would trigger something in her, so deep inside, so new, like she never felt before for anybody else? Did she know that the thought of them together made her feel jealous?

"You seem fine though." Quinn tried to sound casual.

"That's because I'm an actress. I can fake being wellif I have to."

"And do you have to? Do you have to fake being well when you're with me?"

"I needed to for myself." Rachel stated calmly. "To make me believe I was ok and I could handle this conversation reasonably calm and with logic to the end."

Quinn shivered but she controlled herself breathing deeply and forced a mask upon herself, the one she usually had when she faced dominants and their claims.

"We have to talk Quinn. We're definitely doing something wrong here, and we have to fix this."

And there it was. Quinn could sense the threatening words in the air, the sentence waiting to be uttered: Rachel was going to make a point about submission and every shred of hope she had about them would be ripped to pieces.

"Fine." Her voice betrayed her, coming out more cracked than she would want. She kicked herself for showing such weakness and looked up determined to show Rachel, and herself, that she wasn't going out without a fight "But before we begin I have to warn you that if you're looking for an apology you will be disappointed: do whatever you want, I'm simply not going to say that I'm sorry for giving that asshole what he deserved during the party. Not now, not ever."

Rachel pinched her nose. Smooth start huh?

"Ok."

Quinn's eyebrows rose up in surprise. "Ok?"

"Well, you're not going to apologize and you obviously have your reasons. I'm not going to force you to do anything so... yes. Ok."

Quinn studied Rachel. She had an habit of being prepared for everything, but the brunette had a habit of her own, being able to read right through her and making all her precautions and preparation useless.

Did Rachel sense she was not going to give up on this? Did she give up? Was it a power game? A mind trick? Reverse psychology? What did jus happen?

"I'm sorry, though", Rachel continued "that you didn't look for me that night. Don't you know I would have done anything to keep him away from you if I had known he was getting under your skin?"

"I don't need protection, Rachel. I know how to take care of my own business."

"But that's the point, Quinn, you don't have to! That's what being in a relationship means: that you don't have to deal with this on your own! For once, just once, Quinn, I wish you would rely on me, trust me. I'd love to be there for you but it's a tough job trying to always  _guess_ what's on your mind. I wish I could trust you to tell me what's bothering you so we can deal with it together."

Somehow Rachel's words made sense.

Would have been different if Rachel was there, next to her while Raphael was upsetting her? Would have she stopped herself? Would Rachel have stopped her? Would have she taken up the fight with Raphael?

"I can't let someone else do the that instead me." Quinn started quietly. It was a matter of pride, yes, her pride, the one and only thing she swore to protect on the day she was sorted as submissive. "It's not how it works. I fight my own battles."

"So much for compromise, Quinn." Rachel sighed. That woman was a stubborn one, that was for sure. "I wouldn't dare to get in your way, but you're not stupid and you know that there are some things that you, as a slave, cannot do."

"Are you offering to do those things on my behalf?"

"I didn't think I needed to  _offer_ mdoing them myself. I thought it was implicit when I said that I loved you that I would always be there for you. At least that's what  _I_ implied."

Quinn's jaw moved back and forth nervously. The previous night she had contemplated what Rachel would say when she would get back home but the conversation wasn't going as she had imagined.

"I know I'm a slave, Rach. I know there are some things I'm not supposed to do, say, or even think, but that never stopped me before."

"And look how good that turned out: it got you in a lot of trouble."

"Which I don't regret." she pointed out. "I've always acted like a free woman, and I'm not gonna stop now."

"See? That's the point, I don't want to stop you, I just want to protect you from the consequences of your actions! Let me do the heavy lifting, let me kick the assholes for you." Rachel's voice was almost pleading now. "I don't want to see you suffer the consequences of your reckless actions, I really don't, so you can say I want it for myself, because that's what it really is. I can't stand the thought of you being punished or disciplined for something I could have prevented."

"You'd rather be you the one who disciplines me, right?"

It hurt Rachel, the cold tone in Quinn's voice and the stern look she gave her. She was scared to go there but, like Juliet told her, if they kept on avoiding the topic it would eventually eat them alive.

"I'm a domme, Q, you've always known that, and I'm not gonna lie to you: I've had subs, I've chained, tied, whipped, spanked, restrained them and I've enjoyed it. But I've never forced anyone and sure as hell I'm not gonna force you. Yesterday I..." she bit her lower lip "...I've lost it. I'm ashamed to say it, because I should know better, I know, but I was really angry and I let the anger take over me. I acted without thinking, without talking to you first and that was a huge, huge mistake. I apologize for that Quinn."

The blonde stared at Rachel. It was the first time ever that a dominant apologized to her and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to answer that.

"Thanks." She chose the simplest way.

"I hope you know that I don't want to hurt you. Never."

"I know."

"And I hope you know I love you."

Her lips curved upwards but the smile never reached Quinn's eyes. "I know."

"But I'm a domme."

"And I'm..." Quinn hesitated. Words do have the power to define who you are and she wasn't ready to hear her voice saying it out loud. "...yours." She murmured.

"Yes." Rachel scooted closer, tentatively taking Quinn's hands between her own. "For the world outside these walls you may be my slave, but for me you're also my lover, my girl, my beautiful soul mate." She sealed her words with a kiss to Quinn's knuckles. "Can you trust me Quinn? Can you believe that I would never take away your freedom? That I would never force you?"

"Yes." A whisper.

"And can you trust me to have your back when we are outside?"

Quinn sighed. She knew Rachel had the best intentions but there was a hidden question in Rachel's words, and it was the one bothering Quinn:  _'Will submit to me fully and behave like a proper slave in the outside world?'_

To Quinn Rachel was both a blessing and a torture: she loved and trusted that wonderful woman who took care of her when she was sick and in pain, but she feared the domme and the way she seemed to read her mind. She couldn't reconcile the two images she had: Rachel, domme, domme, Rachel. They were two distincted, separate individuals.

"It's so hard to see who you are, sometimes" Quinn tried to explain, "There is this incredible Rachel that takes care of me with such sweetness and love that it overwhelms me; and then there is the domme. And I don't know what to expect from her."

"We're the same person, Quinn."

She could understand that but she just couldn't feel it. It was hard to force that knowledge through, to make her instincts, that constantly told her not to trust the dominants in her life, accept that.

"I'm not a slave Rachel."

"I didn't ask you that. I asked you if you could trust me. Can you believe that I would protect you to my last breath?"

"You're good at turning this around." Quinn smiled sarcastically.

"But that's all it is, in the end: you and me." Rachel tilted her head. "If we work we can make everything else work too." Rachel's eyes met hers hesitantly. There was something childishly hopeful in that look, the way she waited for Quinn's answer like her life depended on it.

Was she ready to at least give it a try? Could she submit, just for Rachel, just for the outside world, knowing that giving in to Rachel didn't mean  _losing_ herself but just  _giving_ herself to the person who cherished her the most?

"Yeah." Another whisper.

Rachel supressed a smile, a warm feeling spreadi inside her chest . She felt incredibly proud to be the one Quinn trusted this much.

"Thank you." she reached for her cheek to caress it. "I won't let you down, I promise."

Quinn cupped her face and pulled Rachel up to her. It meant to much to the blonde woman that a domme, that Rachel, asked for her trust, that all her anger and regrets melted away.

"I didn't want to make you look bad, I hadn't even thought about it. I didn't want to embarrass you or..." She felt it was her turn to come clean and try to explain her behavior because the previous night, just like the brunette, she let her anger and fear take over "this whole belonging thing... I had to answer only to myself before..."

"It's ok."

"No, it's not. Like I said I would do it again and again, but I've never meant for my actions to weight on you."

"But they do, Quinn. We're an item and everything you do reflects on me, as much as everything I do reflects on you."

"I'm sorry I didn't call for you."

"And I'm sorry I didn't think through what I was doing."

Quinn pulled her even closer until their lips brushed. Rachel waited to see if Quinn would be the one to make the first move. The blonde seemed to weight the decision, hoping Rachel would be the one to do that, as she almost did every time, but she also knew that, this time, Rachel wouldn't. It was another one of her mind games, the ones that drove Quinn crazy. She always made sure that, in the important moments, Quinn was the one to make a choice. It made her feel free and, at the same time, it weighted her with the burden of responsibility because whatever road she decided to take it was her decision and her decision only. She couldn't let anybody take the blame for what would have come of it.

And she decided to go for it, sucking in Rachel's upper lip.


	11. Waiting on the couch

Quinn sat on the car, looking at the house on her right.  
"You ok?" Rachel asked, putting a hand on her knee. Quinn nodded. "Are you worried?"  
"Try more scared to death." She smiled faintly. "She's not going to let me off the hook easilly. If she even does that. I'm not sure."  
Santana had always been her best friend and the thought of loosing her, was something Quinn wasn't even going to consider.  
After making things right with Rachel she had waited a day to see if Santana was going to come by and act like nothing happened, it wouldn't be the first time: Santana was famous for her selected amnisia when it came to things she didn't want to verbilize and Quinn hoped that she could do it even in that occasion. Unfortunately, that time Quinn had crossed the line and when Santana didn't show up the next day she knew things were serious.  
"It's going to be ok. She loves you and she will go past... whatever happened between you two."  
Quinn had been vague about the datail. She just told Rachel she and Santana had a fight and left on bad terms. She also implied that she might have been entirely her fault.  
"Do you want me to wait you here?"  
Quinn breathed deeply. "No. I think this might be rather long."  
"Ok." Rachel squeezed her knee affectionately and then kissed her on the cheek.  
Quinn get down the car and pushed the green gate that was open as expected. Santana's car wasn't anywhere to be seen but she could hear the music and a yelling voice singing on the top of her lungs: at least Britt was home, maybe she could let her in and she wouldn't be forced to wait for the Latina on the porch steps outside.  
She rang the bell a couple of times to be sure Britt could heard it above the music.  
"Coming!" she didn't bother to turn down the volume, she just yelled above the music.  
Britt opened the door and smiled warmly at her giving her one of her famous crushing bones hugs. It always felt good to be with her, even in the mot dark times, because Britt was an endless source of lightness who could cheer her up or simply calm Quinn down with her mere presence.  
"I got the feeling that it was you." Britt told her releasing Quinn from the embrace. "San was so pissed off she didn't even talk to me. I knew that anger couldn't be just work related."  
"Sorry." Quinn apologised. Once again her actions reflected on the people around her more than she thought possible.  
"Don't be silly, I know that Santana sometimes just needs to be Santana, I just got a little worried because she was darker than usual. But it's going to be fine. It always does." Quinn wished she could be as positive as her friend. "The problem is that she's not home, yet, sweetie."  
"I know. I just thought I would prepare myself for when she would be."  
Britt held her at arm lenght "That bad?"  
"Pretty bad, yes." She confirmed.  
"Ok." She put a arm around her shoulder and pulled Quinn in. "Let's see what we can do."

__________________

When Santana Lopez opened the door of her house her mind was buzzing with thoughts and worries. All day long she had tried to push them aside and she eneded up being as useless as a full trash can in a dump  
"Damn you, B, and your eco-mania you're making me live through." she thought to herself dismissing the analogy.  
Her boss yelled at her twice: once because she forgot the file cases they were due to present that day, and once because she tripped on him wetting his shirt with coffee.  
"What the hell Lopez?"  
She had been working with him for more than 5 years now, and in any normal day he would have just taken her to an empty room and asked her what was wrong, but it seemed that that day he had his own problems, and he lashed out on her, sending her home like she was a first year intern who messed up.  
So, over all, she had a pretty shitty day.  
It didn't help her that when she finally turned around and walked towards the kitchen she saw Quinn sitting in the middle of their white couch.  
She froze for a second, silenting cursing for being caught off guard. Quinn looked at her motionless. Staring. Just waiting.  
Santana walked past her without giving her as much as another glance.  
She walked in the kitchen and opened the fridge, scanning through the different bottles, the vegetables, the last slice of a salty cake Britt made a week before. She didn't want any of those things but she needed to look busy so she ended up taking the milk bottle and drinking from it.  
'Glass, damn me!' she thought and, a moment later, Britt's voice echoed her.  
"Glass, Santana!" Britt didn't like when she drank milk that way, it gave her disgusting chills down her spine and, oddly enough, it happened only with milk. Santana was free to drink from the bottle anything else just, not milk.  
"Sorry." She put the bottle down with too much force and the milk erupted on the counter."Damn."  
"Hey." Britt took her hand as Santana was rushing to get a towel and clean it up. She pulled the Latina in her arms hugging her and keeping her close until she felt Santana release a soft sigh on her shoulder.  
"Bad day?"  
"Terrible."  
Britt's hands flew to her face and, moving deliberately slowly, she pulled Santana in for a slow, passionate, kiss.  
"Better?" She asked as they parted a few moments later, and Santana only answered closing her eyes and leaning her head on the blonde's shoulder.  
"Quinn is..."  
"I know."  
She didn't want to talk to Quinn and she didn't want to talk to Britt about Quinn. Quinn was off limit, off topic, off of her life. She didn't even want to think about her. She pulled apart, a little too quickly and coldly, and she returned to her task of finding a towel to clean the kitchen "So, how was your day?"  
"Aren't you gonna talk to her?"  
"No. Do you want pizza tonight? I feel like having pizza..."  
"San!" Britt tried to stop her grasping her wrist. "Aren't you even going to listen to her?"  
"No, and I don't want to talk about it with you either."  
"Come on, San!"  
"Conversation is closed, now excuse me, I have some paperwork I need to do for work."  
She said walking out the kitchen to the outside garage they turned to be her own private room at home.

_____

When she came back almost three hours later Quinn was still sitting in the same post, still motionless and still patiently waiting.  
Santana walked into the kitchen from the back door eyeing the woman on the lounge. Brittany was opening the pizza's boxes to get the dinner on the table.  
"I ordered peperoni, is it ok?"  
Santana absently nodded while she counted the three plates on the table. She grabbed Britt's arm just as she was heading to the lounge to call Quinn for dinner.  
"What are you doing?" She asked.  
"Telling her dinner is ready."  
"She's not eating in my house."  
Britt backed, surprised, but she quickly recovered and, placing a hand on her hip, she looked angrily at her. "Excuse me?"  
"You heard me."  
"Well, this is my house too and I won't let a friend starve on the couch."  
"She doesn't have to starve, she just have to go home and eat her own food."  
"This is..." Britt chewed her lower lip in disbelief "you're..." she rolled her eyes. "whatever!" She tried to move ignoring Santana's words but the other woman held her tightly keeping her from walking away. "You're being ridiculous San!"  
"I'm not joking Britt. It's me or her."  
The blonde's eyes widened in stupor. "Are you serious?" Santana stared back at her without flinching. "Fine!"  
Slowly Santana released her grip and Britt walked near the table. She didn't sit down, though, she took the two plates and turned around to face her lover. "I'll go eat with my friend. You can calm down and join us whenever you're ready."  
_______  
"You shouldn't really side with me on this one, Britt. Santana is right this time."  
"Oh, she'll calm down. She's just being insanely childish."  
Britt and Quinn were sitting on the couch, side by side, their plates on the low lounge table along with two bottles of beer. Quinn's plate was still full as was her bottle, while Britt's ones were almost all completely gone.  
"Not hungry?" She asked finishing her last slice of pizza.  
"Go ahead" Quinn smiled "take mine too."  
Britt cheerfully switched her empty plate with Quinn's full one.  
Quinn put her head on Britt's shoulder. "How come you're not worried about fighting with San?"  
"Oh, we fight sometimes." she answered, catching a piece of cheese threatened to fall out of her mouth just in time "but then we have make up sex which is always great!"  
Quinn grinned enjoying the Britt's confidence in the happy endings.  
After Britt had done eating all her pizza and took quite a sip of her second beer, she lead Quinn's head to rest on her lap. They listen quietly Santana noises as she moved around the kitchen.  
"I bet she's going to drink milk from the bottle on purpouse now!" She whispered and Quinn smiled knowing she was probably right. Although, for it to be it perfect Santana style, she would have to walk past them, sipping from the bottle and maybe dramatically taking a deep breath as she finished drinking just in front of them. Which, of course, she did just a few minutes later as she walked her way to the bedroom.  
Quinn sat up, sighing lightly. "Just go talk to her and possibly have some good make up sex. I don't want to come between you two, I already made quite a mess without having to add this too."  
"It's not your fault."  
"Well, humor me, would you? And go to her."  
Britt took her hands "Are you gonna be ok?"  
"Yes."  
"Remember to call Rachel and let them know you're staying here."  
"Yes, mom!" she joked.  
"Ok." she put a strain of loose hair behind Quinn's ear. "your room is ready if you want to go sleep in there."  
"Thank you."  
"Are you...?"  
"Go, for God's sake! I'm ok!"  
"Fine!" Brittany kissed Quinn's temple and walked down the hallway to the bedroom she shared with Santana, closing the door behind her back.

________

"Are you giving me the silent treatment too?" She asked as she sat on the bed looking at a tense Santana who was pretending to read a book. "San?"  
No answer. Britt pulled away the book from her hands.  
"Hey!" She protested.  
"Like you were really reading it!"  
"As a matter of fact I was!" She took the book back and turned the pages to resume her reading. Britt grab the book for the second time and throw it across the room.  
Santana frowned, crossing her arms in front of the chest. "Who is being childish now?"  
"I'll ignore your confession of eaversdropping just because you just admitted you were actually childish before!" Britt smirked happy to have conquered that first admission.  
"Whatever." Santana tried to get up to retrieve the book but Britt jumped on the bed, trapping Santana's legs between her knees.  
"I'm not in the mood, Britt, move away."  
"No."  
"I said" she grabbed Britt's arms to push her away "move!"  
In the last couple of days everything that could have been wrong did and Santana was still fighting hard with herself trying to control her instincts and not yell at everybody just because. She was not in her right mind to handle a stubborn Brittany right now. But, of course, her girl though otherwise. She pulled out from Santana's grab and, catching the Latina's writs, she held them in mid air.  
Stantana glanced at her angrily, trying to free herself with a few wild straps, but Brittany hold her tight. Damn that woman was strong!  
Santana's breathing was fast and uneven as she kept her eyes locked in Britt's, hoping to scare the woman off, but her best interpretation of bad evil Santana never worked on Brittany. She knew her too well to be impressed by that fake act.  
Santana closed her eyes defeated, and as Britt sensed her surrender she let her arms slowly down on the bed.  
"You sided with her."  
"You wanted to starve her." Britt answered quietly.  
"That's not... I didn't mean to..." she sighed. "I just want her away."  
"Then listen to her, and then she'll be gone."  
"Yeah. Quinn Fabray always gets what she wants, right? So if she wants to talk to me I should just walk there and grant her all her wishes, right!"  
"She's your friend." Britt tried to make her reason.  
"Quite the friend I have!" Santana laughed sarcastically "one who always bails on me and who is never there when I need her to be."  
"She is there now, just outside that door!"  
"Well, I don't need her now!" Santana stated and turned her head away.  
If she hadn't known it before seeing San look away would have made Britt realize how angry she was with Quinn. What the hell happened between those two? She moved to lay on the other side of the bed and she gently dragged San to lay next to her.  
The Latina let herself be pulled down but stayed on her side, facing away from Britt. After a few moments she felt the blonde hand moving in circles on her back. Fingertips tracing lines up and down her spine in slow, soothingly motions.  
She wanted to stay angry, at Quinn and at Britt for siding with her, but her body recognized Britt's touch and it relaxed, tension evaporating away like water under the sun.  
"Stop it Britt." The lack of confidence in her voice reassured Britt she was doing the right thing. The blonde scooted a little closer and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, slinding her arm around the other woman's waist.  
"Why don't you side with me?" Asked Santana.  
"I side with you when you're right."  
"Can't you just side with me and, well, just do it?"  
Britt smiled. "You wouldn't want me that way! Me and Quinn are the only two people in the world who can stand up to you. You don't really want to change us or lose us."  
The thought of what she had find out, about Britt and her third claim, surfaced back to her conscience and she felt a knot tie up in her stomach. "You. I don't want to lose you!" She pointed out in a whisper, crying one single tear that she quickly wiped away.  
Britt didn't see her.  
"Nor Quinn."  
Santana turned around in the embrace and hided her face in Britt's neck. The blonde thought she had just scored the winning point! And she did, but that was not the reason why Santana was breathing her scent trying to impress it in her memory.

________________

She looked at the red digits on their alarm clock. 4:17  
Britt was sort of snoring by her side, mouth open and a tiny strain of saliva drooling down the side of it. Santana gently pushed her chin up to close her mouth and Britt's moved to settle better and licked her lips in her dream.  
Santana couldn't sleep despite the fact she was tired or, to be more exact, exhausted. Her brain kept on functioning at high levels and she wasn't able to rest her mind. Not even cuddling with Britt had made the trick that night, but she had to fake it because the blonde was stubborn enough to stay awake until she was sure Santana was sleeping.  
In less than four hours the alarm would sound and she would have to be ready for another day at work. She could not allow herself to be sloppy and useless two days in a row so she knew she had to sleep at least a few hours.  
Hating herself she opened the bedside table's drawer and took a small bottle with a transparent liquid. Not a real sleeping pill, more of a tranquilizer, or so said the colleague who told her about it. She got up, with the bottle in her hand and headed for the kitchen to grab some water.  
Barefoot she walked down the corridor, stopping only to push the door of what she and Britt called "Quinn's room". With relief she noted that there was no one sleeping there and the bed hadn't been touched.  
'She's finally gone!' she thought, but when she passed by the lounge she saw a blonde figure still sitting on the couch.  
God that woman was stubborn!  
Santana walked past her and turned on the light to open the fridge. The only reaction from the blonde was a slightly movement of her chin that turned in her direction. She didn't call her name, she didn't stretch like she had just being woken up by Santana's intrusion, nor she covered her eyes to shield them from the sudden light.  
Santana rolled her eyes: Quinn was good at playing the martyr. If Santana let her, Quinn would stay there until she'd die of thirst or until Santana would finally agree on listening to her.  
And they always though Rachel was the drama queen.  
She took a glass of water, letting 5 drops of medicine fall on it, then thinking better and adding five more: she wanted to fall in a dreamless sleep as soon as possible. She drank quickly and then turned off the lights, pausing on the frame door. She could sense Quinn's eyes on her.  
"Go home." She told her coldly.  
"I need to talk to you." Quinn's voice was clear and steady.  
"I don't, so go home."  
The room was dark, the only light was the one coming from the moon through the porch windows and door.  
"Just hear me out. You know I'll stay here until you do."  
Santana considered it for a moment, then sat on the couch in front of Quinn. "Be quick." She warned her.  
Quinn nodded and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.  
"I deserve the silent treatment, actually, I deserve way worst, I know. I'm sorry, San, I really am. You've always been there for me, you've been an amazing friend, you've been my whole family for so long, taking care of me, always watching my back, and I can't believe how selfish I was. If I could do it all again, San, I swear... there's no excuse, I should have known better and..." her hands were jointed now, eyes cast down. She wanted Santana to know that she felt ashamed for her behavior. She let down the only person who had always had her back and there was no excuse for that. "Please, San, at least believe me that sorry doesn't even start to cover how I feel for what I did. I was so stupid..."  
"Stupid is not the world I'd use." Santana interrupted her.  
"Right. I was a heartless bitch." Agreed Quinn, feeling a little hope spreading in her chest to Santana's reaction.  
"Not quite right, yet."  
"I was an idiotic, a moron, a lousy friend and an ungrateful fucking asshole."  
"Close enough." Conceded Santana.  
"Please, I know I let you down, and I'm really sorry."  
Santana sighed, sounding not convinced at all. "The point, Quinn, is that you're always sorry, but you keep on making mistakes again."  
Quinn's breath was cut short by her answer. Santana's voice, cold and calculated, was tearing her soul apart.  
"You're right I..." She closed her eyes to stop a tear from rolling down her cheek.  
"No, I'm not finished. I've been there for you all your life, Quinn. All your damn life, I've put together your pieces, I had your back more times than I can count, and the only time, the only fucking time I needed you..."  
"I let you down." Finished Quinn for her.  
"Damn right blondie. And what kind of friend does that? I'll tell you. No one. You should have been there for me, just this fucking time, Quinn, just once. Is that even too much to ask of you?"  
"I'm sorry San."  
"Again. What's the good in it? You're sorry now, but when I will need you again where you will be? mourning your own pain?"  
Quinn squatted down next to her, "Please, San. Do you want me to beg you? Cause I will do it, I know I screw up bad I just... you're so strong I never think you could even need me that way, San... it's not an excuse... damn..." she let her head down on the other woman's tight "I'm sorry, God, I'm so, so, sorry!" She quietly started to sob.  
Was Quinn crying? Oh God! No, please no, Santana couldn't stand crying woman, damn, it just knotted something inside her stomach.  
"Stop, Quinn!" But the blonde didn't listen. Her body was shaken by gasps, she felt guilty, hell, she was guilty, and there was no reason in the world why she shouldn't feel the shame for her actions.  
Quinn always thought of herself as a good friend. She loved Britt and Santana but when her friend showed at her house she wasn't even able to read the signs and understand that something was going on. How many times Santana had guessed what she was thinking without the need for her to tell it out loud? How many times had she just sensed her changing moods and saved her a moment before she could do something stupid and make her life even worse? And the only time Santana actually needed her she was so focused on her own problems that she didn't even notice.  
"It was painful realizing I couldn't count on you, Q."  
"San, I swear I..."  
"You're sorry, yes, I get it." Her voice was softer now, and the angry note had turned into a sadness that hurt Quinn even more. "It doesn't change how you made me feel."  
"What can I do to make it up? Just name it."  
"Honestly? I don't know."  
Tears were flowing down Quinn's cheeks now. Quinn wasn't the one to cry often and Santana knew, for a fact, that what Quinn was saying weren't just words. She believed her apologies were true and heart felted, but she was still hurt. She failed herself not noticing that Britt had another claim just under her noise, and then she turned to the only person in the world she trusted enough to let her see the fragile side of her soul, the insecure and scared part of her that she kept so well hidden to everybody else. And that person didn't even allow her the pressure release of listening to her.  
It hurt.  
But it doesn't matter how good are your reasons to be angry at someone you love, you just reach a point where you can't help yourself but forgive them because you've lived through so much together, you shared joy and tears, fear and happiness, and you can't but let go of the bad feelings and let love in again.  
"Let's start with you not wetting my pj with your tears, ok?" She took Quinn's elbows and help her rose to her feet.  
She tried to move away to keep a small distance between them but Quinn clung to her neck buring her face into Santana's shoulder.  
"It's not really helpful if you wet my top instead of my pants, Q!"  
But Quinn didn't let go of her, quite the opposite, she tightened her grip around the other woman's neck, until she felt Santana's hands slide on her back returning the hug.  
"Thanks." She murmured in her shoulder.  
"Yeah, sure, whatever. I'm always been the good one, you know..." She felt Quinn's lips turn up into a smile. "Now, please, go sleep in your bedroom. If Britt finds you out here tomorrow morning she will kick MY ass."


	12. Filling complaints

**Do you though I was dead? I can't believe it's been almost 2 years since I last updated this! I almost forgot about it but lately I got so many messages here and on other sites asking me about this story that I looked for my old files and fixed them a little. It really amaze me that people still want to know about this story so... well, I'm gonna finish it. I'm going to be honest though. When I started this I had a more complex idea, a lot more carachters were involved and it was going to be something like a 30 chapter story. I won't go that far though. I choose a point where to stop it. There would have been so much to say and tell but it would take too much energy that I don't have right now. I will give it an end, though, out of respect and out of real gratitude for the people who messaged me. I hope it will be good enough :)**

"Something's wrong." Quinn enounced with a serious voice and a critical look on the vegetables garden she was trying to grow with Rachel. "It was supposed to be green-ish by now."

"Don't say it like that!" Rachel scolded her.

"Like what?"

"Like you're a doctor pronouncing the time of death."

Quinn chuckled. "You're such a drama queen!"

"Hey!" The brunette protested. "I'm not the one sinking in depression right now. I'm keeping my positive thinking. They say plants can feel your mood and attitude, you know? So I'm thinking that it's your pessimism what is murdering them."

"Yeah, sure, my fault." She shook her head playfully. "But correct me if I'm wrong, aren't these things supposed to grow on their own? Like, in nature or something?"

They were staring puzzled at their first attempt of vegetable garden. It was something Rachel always wanted to do but she had to admit she needed a push to get her hands dirty on the ground. She was more of a theoretical ambientalist and DIY person, but she knew Quinn could use something that would make her consider this place her home too, not just Rachel's. Getting her hands dirty moving around furniture and actually working on something in the house would do the trick, or so Rachel thought. Hence the blue gloves and the "Gardening for dummies" book she had bought a couple of weeks before.

They were so focused on the task of understanding what was wrong (did someone poisoned the ground? did they buried the seed in too deep? did they wet the plants too much? or maybe not enough?) that neither of them heard Santana storming in their house.

The latina eyed Quinn's form from the corridor.

"Fabrary!" she called, and Quinn turned around. The light smile on her face faded immediately seeing the dark look on the Latina's face. "Kitchen, now!" she barked.

Great! So early in the morning and yet the day was already going on the wrong side.

Quinn followed the Latina "What the hell, San?"

Santana smashed a yellow letter on the table and tilted her head waiting for Quinn to take it and read it. The blonde woman shivered unconsciously. That letter was so similar to the once announcing another claim that, for a moment, she was forcefully brought back to her past.

"What is it?" she asked trying to remember that she was safe now, she was with Rachel and no one could try to claim her. Ever again.

"The result of your stunt at Raphael's party." Santana uncerimonialy plopped down one of the chairs.

Quinn took opened the envelope, her eyes quickly moved while reading the few rows in the letter and then carefully placing it on the table as if it was dangerous.

Santana sat leaning back on the chair, closely watching Quinn's reaction, seeing her eyes go unfocused as the full extent of that letter sank in.

"Have you ever heard of knocking Santana Lopez?" Rachel had joined them in the kitchen, taking off her blue gloves before taking in the dark expression of both the other women. "What is it?"

"Raphael has filed a request for punishment for Quinn." The latina answered, never taking her eyes off the Blonde. "Public whipping at his place and, here I quote from him,  _'as public was the offence'_."

"How much?" Rachel asked, in her most as a matter of factly voice.

"Not specified but, looking at precedents, I would say 20 lashes."

"Shit!" Rachel paled and sat down.

She let herself take a moment, her mind wondering on pictures of Raphael's grin growing wider, and the scared look she had seen on Quinn's face during the party, her words when they were back home together

_'I would never, ever, let that man lay a finger on me again.'_

"What can we do?" She asked Santana.

"Nothing. It was coming all along and we knew it. There was too much of a fuss for that scene: he was going to have his revenge, it was just a matter of time." Santana explained.

"Does it says when he wants it?"

"In a week from now."

"And you're sure..."

"Rachel!" Santana was getting annoyed.

This wasn't about her, this was all about Quinn and Rachel was just coming in the way with the wrong questions. Quinn knew this was due to come, and the real issue, was not how many lashes she would have to take, the real issue, here, was if she was going to be able to stay in the same room as Raphael, knowing he would have total power over her again. The real issue was if she could go through that without doing something like breaking up for good or just trying to assault him again, once and for all this time, trying to end his life.

"I knew it was coming, I'm not stupid." Quinn spoke softly "I touched him without consent and in front of plenty of witnesses so, it wasn't a question of if he was going to do it, just when he was going to do it. I just..." Her voice cracked. Despite the calm and controlled mask she immediately wore when she read Raphael's name on the letter, she was feeling like her stomach was melting in a lake of lava.

Rachel took her hand and squeezed it. She was going to say something stupid and an absolute lie such as  _'It's going to be ok'_ when Quinn looked up at her.

"I don't want him to touch me." Quinn confessed. "Please, Rachel, don't let him touch me!"

It was the first time she heard that desperate undertone in Quinn's voice, fear transparent in the way her lower lip trembled as Quinn looked at her. She wanted to protect her, more than everything else, but what she could do?

"I don't know how, baby!" Guilt dripping from her voice. Rachel stared, broken, as she admitted that she failed Quinn the very first time she asked for her help. Was she that useless? She thought she could protect Quinn from everything, she thought she could shield her and be the steady shoulder Quinn could always lead on, but she lost on her first challange.

* * *

 

Santana watched the whole scene play in front of her.

She knew it would have happened, eventually, and she came prepared. Not that her plan was perfect, actually, it involved so many possible fails and deadly turns that she was still hoping for another miraculous solution to pop out in front of them, but she also knew it was highly unlikely. Besides it would have been way better if those two came up with a solution on their own, because she didn't really want to propose her plan to them, knowing it would force them both to face something they were not ready for. But, let's face it, as much as Rachel's heart was in the right places, she didn't have the pluriannual experience she and Britt had on dealing with the shitty consequences of Quinn's actions. Chances the brunette thought about it on her own? Close to zero. And the same was about Quinn whose rational thinking, Santana knew it too well, freezed the exact same moment she read Raphael's name on the letter.

She put her elbows on the table, leaning forward, giving Fate a few more seconds to manifest a fabulous answer to all their problems, but when it didn't, she sighed.

"The law doesn't say the offended has to be the one to punish Quinn." She said softly, and the two other woman raised their eyes to her. "It says the offended can request the punishment in the form it might seem fitter, but there's not a reference about him or her being the one to actually carry it on."

"I thought it was... I mean, I've always known..."

"In this room I'm the only one with a law degree dwarf, so trust me on this!" Santana stopped her raising her hand, slightly disappointed that Rachel had always to say something, always doubting, always questioning.

"Then who should it be?" The brunette asked.

"You." Quinn looked at her. Her voice sounded strangely confident while she saw her only way out of this. "It should be you,"

Silence enveloped the three of them for a few moments: Rachel processed what she had just heard; Santana silently thanked Quinn for catching up quickly and not forcing her to say it out loud; and Quinn just waited, maybe not quite grasping the full implication of what she had just said.

"I can't do it Quinn!" Rachel broke the silence. She was looking down, like the floor had turned to be this incredible interesting object of wonders. "No way."

"It can't be him, I... just..."

Rachel took Quinn's hand between her own. "I wouldn't do that to you!" She protested.

Yes, of course, she was a domme, she had plenty of fun with the whip, but what Quinn was due to face was behind the limits she imposed herself. That was pure torture. Punishment. And she didn't want to be the one doing that to her.

"Please?" Quinn begged.

"This... Quinn... this..." There were rare occasions when Rachel Berry couldn't voice her own words, but the abnormity of what Quinn was asking her stole away all her vocabulary.

"Please." She begged again, and when Rachel looked in her eyes she saw she was on the verge of crying.

Rachel felt dizzy: everything was wrong. They just had a fight about submission and things, even if they were starting to go on the right way, were still far from ok. If there was a wrong moment in their life to even consider that possibility, that was it.

"I can stand the pain, but I can't stand the thought of him doing that to me. Please. Please. Please!" She repeated again as the first tear fell down her cheek.

Rachel couldn't hold it anymore, she pulled Quinn to her shoulder feeling as she broke down into sobs. Santana had quietly left the room sometime in between, probably, since they were now alone. Rachel was grateful for that, because never ever she would have wanted the Latina to see her own tears roll down.

* * *

 

Soap bubbles. Instrumental music. And stay in the bathtub until the water ran cold. That was her plan when she came back home and let her keys soundly drop on the entry cabinet. She throw her jacket on the couch, and took her shoes off.

That morning she had left Brittany still sound asleep in bed, but she was supposed to be at the store, glancing at the walls, trying to decide what color would be more fit for the ice-cream-backery-bookstore-karaokebar she was planning on running there. It was the forth job Britt changed in less than 10 years and Santana had the feeling it wouldn't be the last one. That girl couldn't stay put in any way, she constantly needed new inputs and challenges and that was one of the things she both loved and loathed of her. It was hard to keep up with that level of energy.

"Hey."

As if her thoughts had summoned her, Brittany's voice called her.

"Hey yourself." She smiled weary. "I thought you would be at the store."

The blonde woman was half lying on the kitchen table, arms spread out and her cheek resting on the wood surface. "It's Saturday."

"I know, but you haven't opened yet so you can't start calling the days off."

Britt looked at her blankly, raising her head from the table. "It's Saturday, San." She repeated, like it was a self explanatory phrase.

Santana looked back at her confused and then she realized. She called the talking truce until Saturday, and now it was Saturday. The truce was over. Time to talk.

She sighed.

"I was planning on taking a bath." It wasn't an excuse, she already planned that and she could use some time with her own thoughts after the news she had just delivered to both Quinn and Rachel. The fact that it would have give her a few more hours before facing Britt's claiming issue was just one more convenience to it.

The other woman didn't answer, she just stared back, silently, and after a few moments Santana gave up.

"Fine." She grunted sitting down.

Despite the fact that Santana was a lawyer (or maybe because of that) she didn't cope well with rules or laws. Her approach had always been 'find a way around it'. She wasn't supposed to sneak out of her room while she was still in school, but she did; she wasn't supposed to see Brittany on their two years apart after they had been sorted, but she did; she wasn't supposed to get reserved info from the Central Department on her cases but, sometimes, she did. She had learned to bend the rules to her own will in every scenario but one: when she and Britt laid out their own.

"Can you tell me why you were so upset San?" Brittany asked crossing her arms on the table. She gazed at her girlfriend sitting opposite from her, arms down by her sides. She knew that posture well, it was the calm before the storm, the moment Santana used to gather her energies together. As predicted, Britt felt it. It was like a wave of heat, a wind crossing the room and concentrating around Santana as her thoughts changed color from a pale gray to a dark brown.

"That depends." When Santana spoke her voice was frightening calm.

"On what?"

"On what you tell me."

Britt shook her head. "Don't do your lawyer tricks on me San. You know the rules, you called the truce, and now you have to talk." She told her letting a hint of disappointment transpire in her voice.

"No tricks." Santana kept her tone low and steady and Britt saw the color of her thoughts turn to a more opaque and dark color. "Do you have anything, anything at all to tell me Britt?"

The blonde tilted her head surprised by the turn in their conversation, but thought about it, trying to remember if she did forget to tell her something. "No, I don't think so." She said after a moment.

"Are you sure?" Santana couldn't hide the mocking in her voice.

"Santana, stop. If you want to know something just ask it, for God's sake." It was a rare occurrence for Britt to lose her temper, but in that moment she felt like she was going to.

Santana ticked her tongue. "You had claimings."

Britt flinched. She tried to hide it but Santana noticed it anyway. "You know about my claimings San." She answered in a calm tone.

"About all of them?" The Latina asked and when Britt didn't answer right away she insisted. "How many did you have Britt?"

"Why are you asking me this if you already know the answer?"

"Because I want to hear it from you."

There was no point in lying. Not that she ever lied to Santana, anyway, she had just been selective about what truth tell her.

"Three." She admitted.

Santana gave her a sad smirk. "And you didn't think that having a claim while we were together was something you should have mentioned to me?"

"Are you mad?" She deflected the question turning it around on Santana.

"Yes." The Latina paused. Except that she couldn't really be mad at Britt because it was her fault too. She had it slipped under her nose, she didn't even paid enough attention to see that such a huge thing was going on in her life. "No." She retracted. It wasn't anger, or at least not only anger. It was the betrayal of her trust that stung more than everything else. "Yes." She changed again, more persuaded than the first time. "Yes, I am mad. And disappointed. And sad. And scared too!"

Brittany reached for her hand but Santana flinched away. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to, but you were so worried about Quinn and after the claim I had already promised not to tell."

Santana frowned. "Promised to whom?"

Brittany sighed heavily and put a strain behind her ear. "You're right." She admitted. "I should have told you, and I'm gonna tell you about it now, but before you have to make the same promise I made."

"What promise?"

"That what I am going to tell you will never leave this room."

* * *

 

_She fidgeted nervously in front of the door._

'Come on Britt, it's just a stupid claiming.' _She told herself_ 'Just ring the bell. The sooner it starts the sooner it ends.'

_A week before that moment a Central Direction Officer came by her house to deliver a yellow envelope with her schedule for a claiming. She had been so surprised by it that she stood on the door long after the man in the dark green uniform was gone._

_Up until that moment it never occurred to her that she might be claimed by someone different than Santana, especially after her girlfriend put on one of her stunts, a few years back, making it worldwide clear that the two of them were together, whatever it was official or not. She had always thought it was enough to keep her safe because no one, in their right mind, would challenge Santana Lopez. But maybe this Will Shuster wasn't in his right mind._

_She sighed and pressed the bell, hearing the steps approaching to the door a few moments after._

_"Hi. You must be Brittany. Please, come on in." The man stepped aside to let her in. He was a nice looking guy, with short curly hair and a big smile on his face. He dressed casually with a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. He seemed fine, maybe a little too jumpy, like in literally jumpy, unable to stay still for more than a fraction of second._

_Britt took a tentative step inside. She was nervous. It had been a long time since her last claiming and she couldn't help but think of everything Quinn had to face, how the dominants had exploited her fears, and all the ways they hurt her. Was this her time to face it? Was he going to hurt her?_

_She looked around the small apartment or, at least, the part that she could see. There weren't chains or whips on the walls._ 'Not an hard core Master' _she thought before looking for more subtle signs of his dominant nature. No D rings on the walls or the ceiling and no corners left empty for a slave to kneel._ 'It doesn't mean anything' _She reminded herself, but she couldn't help but feel a little relieved by the apartment's appearance._

_"Please, Brittany, have a sit." He gestured her to the kitchen smiling. His thoughts were a bright orange color with flickering red strains._

_"Thank you Sir."_

_"I don't like formalities, please, call me Will."_

_"Yes... Will."_

_He nodded. "Can I get you something? Water? Coffee? Tea?"_

_"Umh, no, thank you si.. Will." She corrected herself._

_A cough announced the presence of another human being in the room. Britt turned around to see a red haired woman exiting from the bathroom smoothing her dress. She hurriedly headed toward her, extending her arm._

_"Brittany right?" She didn't pause enough to let her reply. "My name is Emma Pilsbury, I'm the Central Direction Officer assigned to this claim. Sorry I wasn't here to welcome you. I had to finish wash up my hands." The woman sat casually next to her giving a longing look to the coffee machine. WIll intercepted her gaze._

_"May I offer you a coffee Em?"_

_"Yes, thank you Will, that would be nice. I was so busy this morning I didn't have time to drink it."_ _The man nodded sympathetically "Someone had hid the trash bin near my garden and I had to clean the place. I don't even want to imagine what kind of animals or, God forbids, germs, that open trash bin might have attracted before I fix it."_

_Britt sat looking at the two of them, seeing how Will's orange thoughts faded into white vapors melting with her light blue ones._

_"Do you want some coffee too Britt?" The woman asked smiling._

_Britt shook her head and, simultaneously Will frowned placing a hot cup in front of the woman. "I'm not such a terrible host Em, I already asked her."_

_The woman raised her hands apologetically. "Sorry." She murmured sipping her coffee._

_He shook his head but he was smiling._ _"Please forgive us, Brittany. Emma is not only the Central Direction officer assigned to your claim. She's been a friend of mine for a long time and she basically considers this as her second home."_

_The woman nodded looking at Britt while blowing on the cup._

_The blonde girl smiled back feeling more and more relaxed every moment. Granted, that was one of the most unusual claiming she had ever heard of._

_"I know that this, that we," he said lowering his tone, "might look a little off or, better, totally weird, but I want to assure you, we're good people. Kind of awesome actually." He smiled trying to light up the mood._

_"It's ok sir."_

_"Will." He corrected her._

_"Will." She repeated._

_"I know you must be a little on edge, you didn't have a claim for quite some time so I just want to assure you. We're just going to talk today, ok?"_

_Britt couldn't help but look at him perplexed. Dominants don't ask for a claim to talk, they could just ask you out for a date if they want to get to know you. If they file the papers for a formal claim it's because they want something more, they want that kind of power that is granted to them over a submissive in those occasions._

_"You're scaring her." Giving Will a reprimendal look._

_"I just told her she doesn't need to be scared."_

_"And by doing so you scared her." Emma said again reinforcing her thesis tilting her head toward a confused Brittany._ _"I'm sorry." She turned to the blonde. "He believes he knows how to talk to people but, really, he doesn't. He means well, though, and he's not going to hurt you in any way."_

_"I..." Brittany licked her lips. Weirdest. Claim. Ever. "It's ok."_

_"So, Brittany." He smiled his best smile at her. "Can I ask you why haven't you been claimed up until now? You're obviously a beautiful woman and..."_

_"Will!" Emma scolded him._

_"What?" He looked at her bewildered._

_She shook her head lowering her voice "Like I said, he believes he's good at this."_

_He raised his hands "Do you want me to dance around the subject for hours?"_

_"It would be more polite."_

_"I'm not unpolite. I'm practical."_

_"Can't you be both? Polite and practical, I mean."_

_Brittany looked at the waves of their thoughts interlacing in the air, his orange thoughts smashing against her cold blue ones, while, one the opposite sides blu waves insinuated among his thoughts turning the orange flames into light green ones._

_"Are you two together?" Britt questioned. "Because you sound an awful lot like me and San when we're arguing but not really arguing, you know?"_

_For a moment their thoughts froze and then they both turned to a white so bright as Will and Emma looked away embarrassed._

_"We're just friends." Emma stated taking her cup and sipping from it in a forceful gesture to regain some composure, and Brittany couldn't tell if she had said it for her benefit or if the red head was just trying to convince herself._

_She smiled and relaxed a bit more on her chair. She wasn't sure why but she wasn't scared anymore. Curious, bewildered, a little astonished, yes, but not scared. Will and Emma wouldn't hurt her. Strange as they can be._

_"It's complicated." The blonde said after a moment of embarassed silent. "The reason why I'm not claimed I mean. It's complicated."_

_"But you do have someone?" Will asked and seeing a smile spread wide across the blonde's face._

_"Oh yes. I have Santana."_

_"And Santana is your..." He dragged the vocals, hoping Brittany would fill in the blanks, but the woman didn't he went on "...Mistress?"_

_"I hope she will be, yes. As of now she's just my dominant. I haven't be claimed, remember?"_

_Will exchanged a look with Emma and Brittany noticed that both their thoughts had turned into yellowish pointy shapes with dark brown strains._

_"What?" It was her turn to ask._

_"Nothing, I just..." Will fumbled trying to cover his surprise with a logic explanation. "It's unexpected. Have the two of you been together for a long time?"_

_Brittany chuckled. "Forever. We've know each other since school."_

_"But then," Emma jumped into the conversation, "why aren't you two official?"_

_"Like I said, it's complicated. There are more people involved then the two of us."_

_Will sit down, leaning slightly on the table. "Well, that made me curious! Please, tell us."_

_And Brittany did told them, in her casual tone, like she always did when someone asked about her, because she didn't have any sense of privacy when it came to her life, because she didn't think that what happened to her was something to hide in shame, because she was grateful and proud of every single moment and decision they took along the way and because she never saw the dangers and perils of opening her heart to a couple of complete strangers._

_Somewhere, within her mind, Santana's face popped into her mind when she started telling her story, (hers, and Santana's and Quinn's too). She had her characteristic frown, eyebrows slightly raised and that look that always scared the hell out of everyone but her. And maybe Quinn. Brittany shooked the image away. The Latina always told her that she trusted people too much but she didn't. Her girlfriend sometimes forgot that her superpowers let her see the other's thought and could warn her if something or someone was going to happen. She just knew in advance, she could read everyone's intentions and knew, by instinct, if she could trust them or not. And she could trust Will and Emma._

_She finished her story and looked up at Will. "I will accept that glass of water now, please."_

_He nodded absently. He was still trying to wrap his mind around what the woman had just told them and one name, more than anything, kept on bouncing between his thoughts. Quinn Fabray. The untamed Painslut. Did they really cross path with the one and only Quinn Fabray?_

_He took a bottle of water and placed it on the table, shooting a side glance to Emma. The red headed woman seemed concerned just like he was. Unfortunately their gazes weren't so subtle as they wished and, even if Brittany didn't have her superpowers, she still would have noticed the looks they were exchanging._

_"I'm not sure what you're hiding here." She said all of a sudden, surprising both Will and Emma, "but I can see that there is something going on so... why don't you just spill it out?"_

_Will smiled. "You're quite unique Brittany Pierce, you know that?"_

_"I get that a lot, yes." She replied without false modesty._

_He looked at Emma and Brittany saw them having a silent conversation as they decided if they would really explain everything to her._

_"We thought you were someone different." Emma finally said after a while._

_"How so? You had my file, you knew I was Brittany Pierce."_

_"No, not that way. We thought..." Will bit his lip looking for the right words to say but ending up with a different topic instead. "Have you heard of the rebel revolution Britt?"_

_The blonde woman tensed straightening her posture. "Yes?" It came out more like a question than an answer._

_"And what do you know about them?"_

_"That they are outlaws?" Again, the questioning tone. She felt a little like when she was in school and her teachers questioned her for a test. She knew the answers, she just wasn't sure if that was what the teacher wanted to hear from her._

_But then it hit her, as Will and Emma thoughts changed into a light pink with dark blue strains._

_"You're rebels!" She almost shouted making Emma jump on her seat and Will lean on the table trying to cover her mouth._

_She jumped back on her feet, avoiding Will's hands, and took a few steps back._

_"Now, please, Britt," will talked to her keeping his hands up "lower your voice, you misunderstood we're no..."_

_But she didn't let him finish as a weird smile appeared on her face he jumped on him throwing her hands around his neck, hugging him._

_"I knew it! I knew it!" She said jumping on her feet._

* * *

 

"Come again? You were contacted by rebels?"

"Shhh, lower your voice San!"

"Why? Is not like they're gonna arrest us while we're in our house. This place isn't bugged or anything! Right?" But Brittany didn't look convinced and sighing in frustration Santana lowered her tone. "I'm still not sure here of what happened. I highly doubt that some outlaws with the entire Central Direction on their tails could simply just spill their plans to you."

"They didn't spill they plans." Brittnay remarked, disappointed by her girlfriend reaction. That was not at all what she expected from Santana, she should have been excited, exactly like she was when she realized what was going on. "They were trying to recruit me."

"That doesn't help making them look less of some loser morons." The Latina sighed and got up, frustrated. "Seriously B, why would they risk their lives just like that? Honestly, if this is their combat level, I'm quite surprised they're not all rotting in the Central Directions cells by now."

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm being realistic here." She scoffed her pointing an accusing finger to Brittany. "Have you thought this might have been some plan to look for possible rebels's allays within the population? What if they were trying to frame you? Have you thought of that?"

"I saw their thoughts, they were smooth and bright. They were not lying."

"For God's sake Britt!" The Latina kicked the couch out of frustration.

Santana Lopez believed Brittany was special and yes, she might even had some real superpowers, like she always told her. But it was one thing to indulge in those thoughts when everything was safe, another thing was to relay on them when it was a matter of life or death.

"They thought I wasn't claimed because I was in love with another slave." She was still on the other side of the table, knowing to well that Santana needed a physical outlet and getting closer to her, trying to calm her down, would just make her bottle her feelings and made them all the more dangerous . "They saw I didn't have a claim for a long time and they thought I had a relationship with someone. They weren't wrong, if you think about it. They just mistake the nature of the person I was in love with: not a slave but a regular dominant" She half smiled, managing to burn half of Santana's rage with that simple gesture of affection toward her.

The other woman slowly sat back down at the table. Lots of horrible thoughts and possibilities still running through her head. Were they doomed? Maybe they were watched by some secret Central Direction service, and maybe officers would burst in their house any moment now, and arrest them for conspiring with the rebels.

"Fuck!"

"We're ok, San." Brittany reached for her through the table taking her hands. "Everything is fine."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do. If they were officers posing like rebels, which they are not, wouldn't I already be arrested by now?"

It had been more than six months before, and Britt had a point. It was unlikely that the Central Direction would let loose a suspected rebel for so long.

"You should have told me."

"I promised not to tell anybody about them, and you made the same promise to me. This story won't leave our house."

"But you told them about Quinn. What if she is not safe anymore? We have to tell her. And Rachel too. They have to be on the look out for anything weird. Undercover officers. Strangers passing by their house..."

"San..."

"...we should get them a surveillance system. I can call a friend. They should know, they..."

"San!" This time Britt's voice was stronger and breached through her rambles getting her attention. "Yes, I told them about Quinn, and yes, they were interested in her. They thought she would be a great addition to their cause. They think if she joins them other slaves might find the courage to do so. She's a known face, after all, although I believe that they have now found another poster boy with Sam I'm pretty sure they still would welcome her with open arms." Brittany released her grip on Santana's hands and sat back in the chair. "It was a good opportunity back then. We were running out of options with her and if Rachel hadn't shown up like she did I would probably had talked to you and we would have used the rebels to get Quinn out of the system."

"But then Rachel showed up in her shiny armor." Santana continued.

"No, you showed up in your shining armor." Britt sighed and her mind drifted back to those days. Quinn had been declared 'not public property' anymore, and she had been dragged away, out of reach.

Back then, desperate as she was, Britt had tried and succeed into contacting the rebels. Their resources, though, weren't enough to reach Quinn in her new state. They didn't have men or women so deep within the Central Direction hierarchy to get to her, and they didn't have enough intels to get the operation done.

"And these are the so called rebels?" Santana frowned in disbelief. How could those people be leading a revolution?

Brittany shook her head amused. Santana tended to forget how amazing her skills were, and how incredibly resourceful she could be when she really wanted something. She still wasn't sure how her girlfriend got to see Quinn while she was detained in the Central Direction Facility, and she didn't know how Rachel had managed to get a claim for Quinn and then close the deal breaking down the lasts of her walls, but it was a fact that the two of them succeed where a rebel movement didn't even dare to try.

"Fucking losers!" The Latina mumbled solicitating a small smile in her girlfriend, but that moment soon faded away and Santana's perplexed expression turned into a frown as the image of the yellow envelope she had just brought to Quinn came to her mind. Yes, Quinn had been claimed, yes, she was now living with someone who cared about her and loved her more than anything, but she was still getting into troubles and, more than anything, she was still a slave, something she was never meant to be.

"We should still tell Rachel and Quinn." She said after a while.

"They have each other now, and Quinn is in no danger anymore."

Santana bit her lip. Britt didn't know about the Raphael mess and neither she knew about the punishment Quinn was due to face soon.

"It's not our call to make." Santana said quietly, closing her eyes. "Quinn should be the one to decide." Sensing that Brittany was to protest she raised her hand stopping her. "I will check those supposed rebels and I will make sure it' not a trap, but if they check out ok we're going to talk to both of them."

"It's a mistake San. You know it will make Quinn question everything all over again, even if she could be happy with Rachel."

"This is no up for a debate. It's final, and I'm pretty sure that if you think about it for a while you will agree with me."

"I'm pretty sure that I won't." Britt talked back. "You've been protecting her your whole life San, why would you stop doing it right now?"

"Protecting her is one thing, but you know damn well she never even took into consideration our suggestion, let alone let us take some decision for her. Quite frankly, I believe she would kill us if she just thinks we manipulated her into something, even if that something is a relationship with Rachel."

Brittany thought about it. Yes, she could imagine Quinn exploding rage on the two of them, still she would face her anger and anything that might come with it if it meant she could give her friend the chance to be happy.

"No." Santana seemed to have read her thoughts. "Don't even think about it. Decision is final. You will have a few days to think what to tell Quinn while I check them out, but that's all you get."

A weird moment of silence fell between them. Britt could see Santana's thoughts twirling around in gray vortex and she knew there was too much going on in her lover's head, right now: Quinn, the rebels, and also the two of them.

She walked to her and crouched down next to her legs, taking her hands and kissing her knuckles gently.

"Don't. I'm still mad at you."

"I know." She kissed them again.

"I'm serious B!" She tried to take away her hands but her attempt was weak and the blonde could hold on to her easily.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I am even more sorry because I didn't insist to talk to you when I saw you were upset a few days back." She caressed the back of Santana's hands with her thumb. "I know you must have thought a lot of crazy stuff in these days." She saw her girlfriend's thoughts turn immediately into a bright red as the memory of jealousy took over.

"Stop." Santana didn't want to hear her excuses, she wanted to be angry and she was desperately trying to hold on to that feeling. If she allowed herself to be relieved that Britt's claim was nothing like she feared, than all her worries and anger during the previous days would have been stupid childish fears. It would mean she almost lost it over nothing. Over a stupid chit chat. Over those hideous fucking rebels.

Brittany leaned on her kissing her cheek. Santana got away.

"I said don't!" The Latina needed that anger. If she let that feeling quietly extinguish she was left with just the realization of how much she needed Brittany. The mere thought of losing her girlfriend had paralyzed Santana in the previous days, she couldn't let herself be that weak, that a single person could turn her world upside down and shatter all her self confidence and pride.

Brittany followed her.

"Step away!" Santana hissed with a commanding voice but Brittany ignored her. "I said, step..."

"I'm not backing away," Britt said calmly "I did it a few days back and it was a mistake. Now I just want you to listen to me." She put a hand behind Santana's neck and, pulling her head down on her shoulder. She kept on talking, whispering into the Latina's ear, quietly stroking her hair as Santana stood without returning the hug, arms limp by her sides. "I love you and I'll always be yours and yours only. No one can claim me because my soul already belongs to you from the beginning of time."

There was a brief moment of stillness and then she felt Santana lips move on her shoulder as she spoke. "That is the most sappy crap I've ever heard in my life."

Britt chuckled. "Probably, yes." She cupped her face rising her head before leaning down to kiss her. A chaste, closet mouth kiss.

"I felt like shit."

"I love you." Again she kissed the corner of her lips.

"I thought I lost you."

This time she captured her upper lip between her own, letting her thumbs brush lightly over her lover's skin. "I love you." She repeated resting her forehead against Santana's.

"Don't do this to me again." She asked.

"I'll try not to." Santana's eyebrow raised questioningly and Brittany smiled in response. "I love you?" She said in a more playful tone now that most of the tension had left her girlfriend features

"We still have to sort a few things out B." Her voice was weak, drained of all that will and determination that filled it just a few moments before. Brittany could have that effect on her, she could make worries and fears disappear with a touch. Another superpower of hers.

The blonde woman was tangling her dark hair. She could see her girlfriend thoughts had turned into a light pink that faded into white evanishing smokes shapes "Can we do it tomorrow?"

Santana knew she was in no condition, in that moment, to take any rational decision about anything at all, less than anything about the consequences of Britt omitting the truth to her.

"Yes, tomorrow." She agreed, and kissed Brittany again.

* * *

 

That night Rachel and Quinn went to bed without further talking about it. Rachel had been unusually silent throughout the whole day, her mind racing between crazy plans and a dull resignation.

She had spent the night looking at the ceiling, trying to impose herself to sleep but to no avail.

At 5 in the morning she got up, exhausted and nervous. She went downstairs in the kitchen to make some coffee but a hand stopped her.

"Tea is probably a wiser choice right now." Quinn smiled at her. She was wearing a white tank top and pink pants she used as pj.

"What are you doing up? It's early."

"I heard you and I thought to keep you company."

Rachel closed her eyes for a brief moment: it was nice to have someone to take care of you sometimes. She sat at the table and watched as Quinn walked around the kitchen to gather the pan and the teabags. She could feel a massive headache approaching after her sleepless night and she knew she had to address the topic that was bothering her before the pain started.

"Can you please sit Quinn? I have to talk to you."

The other woman turned on the gas and went sitting next to her.

"I thought about it" Rachel started "about what you asked me to do." The thought of Quinn's punishment passed through their minds but neither of them voiced the actual word. "I understand why you asked me but I'm concerned."

Quinn frowned. She had a feeling she would not like where this was going but she kept silent.

"I'm afraid this will strain us as a couple. What I will have to do..."

"I trust you!" Quinn interrupted her, soliciting a sad smile from Rachel.

"You trust me" she repeated, feeling that there was a truth behind those words "but you don't trust your mistress, and that's the point Quinn."

Quinn's eyes widened. She was the one who brought up first the difference she felt and how it was hard, for her, to reconcile the idea of her lover, Rachel, and her owner, the Mistress. Rationally she knew they were one and the same but her feelings kept telling her differently. She loved Rachel but she feared the kind of control a domme could have on her.

"It won't be Rachel out there with you" Rachel explained calmly "it will be your Mistress, and I can't have the first real interaction between the two of you to be like that." She paused a moment steeling herself for the request she was going to make. "The way I see it there's only one thing we can do to make it through that night, and that is if you start trusting me as your owner."

Quinn's breathing had almost stopped and Rachel knew the other woman was clearly seeing where she was going.

"We need to give ourselves time to be Mistress and slave if we want to..."

"You want me to submit!" The water started boiling and some of it went out the pan causing an hissing sound on the gas. "You want me to act, no, to be your slave."

Rachel didn't take her eyes off Quinn and she answered without as much as a hint of hesitation, not even the smallest doubt. "Yes, I do believe this is the only way."

Quinn retracted her hands in her lap. The exact moment Rachel pronounced those words something in her broke.

Quinn got up to turn off the gas and put the teabags in the pan. She was giving her back to Rachel, her body still and rigid. Rachel could almost see all the thoughts running in her head, bouncing and crashing on each other as she tried to make sense of things and find a way out. But there wasn't a way out, Rachel knew it, because she had spent the whole night frantically looking for it.

"It was due to happen, right?" Quinn turned around and Rachel's heart missed a beat when she saw her expression, the emptiness of the impeccable relaxed masked she wore, like if she couldn't care less, like if they were talking about what to to have for dinner. There was a ghostly smile on her face, the kind that curves your lips up without reaching your eyes, the one that sends chills through your spine when you see it because you know it means everything but a smile.

Rachel had to suffocate the instinct to take it all back. This wasn't the way she imagined to take Quinn into real submission, these weren't the times she planned on acting on. But, one way or the other, it was settled, and she knew there was no turning back. It was her job to do it the right way.

She leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her mouth.

"Just remember that I love you." She whispered in Quinn's ear before extending her arm and inviting the blonde to follow her to the lounge.


	13. Challange of wills

She had never felt like this. Not the first time she performed in front of an audience, not the first time she won an award, not even during Quinn's claim.   
At that time she had everything to gain and nothing to lose but the dream of what could be between them, but now the dream was a reality, a reality she loved and didn't want to loose.  
God help me!  
Her heart was bumming in her chest like a heavy metal drummer as she walked into the lounge without looking back to check if Quinn was following her because, of course she was!  
Her own voice kept getting lounder in her head as it reminded her of all the thing she thought about the night before: be gentle but firm. Give her time. No retreats. Follow the plan.  
"Quinn, please, kneel here."  
Rachel pointed to a spot next to the couch hoping her voice sounded as gentle and firm as she intended. How come it was so hard for her to perform with Quinn when she did it every single day for a whole audience of strangers?  
Feelings Rachel. It's never easy when feelings are involved.  
There were a lot of things she wanted to do with and to Quinn, crawling on the bed and holding her girlfriend being the first on the list. Unfortunately there were also things she had to do, and even more importantly, there were things that Quinn needed her to do. And those had priority.  
She sadly noticed how Quinn took her place on the floor, quickly obeying her, without the slightest hint of hesitation. For any other submissive that would have been a good sign, but with Quinn that meant they were starting on the wrong foot. Quinn wasn't even there with her aymore: the person kneeling down was the old version of her, the one who mastered the art of survival. It wouldn't do them any good if Rachel let that Quinn took over. She was just a lie, an hardcover Quinn used to protect herself keeping everyone else at a safe distance. But she wasn't anyone else, she was Rachel, her lover, her girlfriend, her Mistress and the one who would be punishing her in just a few days from that moment.   
Quinn's head was bent down, hair falling on the side of her face, partially covering her from Rachel's view, shoulders slightly slump and hands clentched in fists over her thights.  
Rachel sat on the edge of the couch and lifted Quinn's head up waiting for a few seconds with her index under the woman's chin, until Quinn's eyes rose up too.   
They were empty.  
Rachel could understand better, now, why so many dominants went nuts on her. That look itself was screaming out loud that Quinn was better than them, that the dominant wasn't even worth of her attention.  
'God Quinn!' Rachel thought. 'Way to piss off any dominant's ego you got here!'  
There was no point for Rachel, though, to get mad at this because that look didn't belong to Quinn. Not the her Quinn, at least. That was just the first of many defence machanism Quinn built for herself during the years.  
Rachel leaned over capturing Quinn's lips in a kiss. It was so cold and impersonal it hurted Rachel.  
'Like kissing a doll.' she thought.  
No kiss was ever like this between them, not even during the claim, when Quinn didn't know who her mysterious mistress was. Did Quinn thought it was really so terrible to be her sub that she couldn't grant her the privilege she gave an anonymous dominant before?  
She tried again.  
This time she took the blonde's face between her hands brushing her upper lip with a thumb before slowly bending on her. She stopped when their lips were almost touching, breathing on her skin. She let their noses touch , hinting that she was going to kiss her but not doing it, playing with her untill her actions finally elicited a reaction and Quinn parted her lips of her own will.  
That was when Rachel kissed her again.  
_______________  
Rachel had setted the peace for Quinn's submission. It wasn't the kind of submission manuals suggested for new Master/slave relationships but, again, Quinn was a world of her own and general rules didn't apply to her.  
"Would you make dinner a little later tonight please Quinn? I think around 9 would be good, there's a late reharsal today at work and I don't know if I can be home in time."  
She was dipping a biscuit in her morning latte while talking plans for their day. She was trying to make things sound as normal as they could be, but Quinn appeared to be thoughtful and lost in her own thoughts.  
"Quinn?"  
The blonde startled hearing her name "Mmm?"  
"I've asked you if you could make dinner a little later today." Rachel's voice had the patronizing note that Quinn would have hated if she was in the right mind to notice it.  
"Sorry I was distracted."  
"I can see that. Something on your mind?"  
"No." Quinn dismissed her quickly taking her tea cup between her hands and looking at it as if it was the answer to all the questions in her mind.  
"Quinn?" This time the blonde looked up more quickly. "So?"  
"What?"  
"Are you going to cook dinner at 9?"  
"Yes." She sounded a little annoyed. "You asked me to do it and I will. It's not like I'm going to prepare dinner before, eat alone and leave you to starve, just so that I can piss you off, you know!"  
Rachel quircked an eyebrow at her reaction. "I didn't know dinner time was such a touchy subject for you." Her tone was calm and calculated and Quinn couldn't mistake what she heard beneath it, the subtle change that occured any time a dominant fully took on her role.  
Quinn bit her cheek. Unnecessary rudeness with Rachel, what a better way to start a day?   
She was trying, God knew she was really trying for the sake of both of them, but she couldn't keep her mind at ease. It had just been one day since she had agreed to be a slave in training for Rachel, and yet her mind kept screaming louder and louder and she couldn't finish one train of thought before something else came to worry her.  
Rachel was still staring at her with that firm look on her face and Quinn gulped her last sip of tea and went to wash the cup on the brink. The brunette sighed.   
One day into their submissive training routine and che sould see that Quinn was still very confused by how Rachel kept switching between her domme personality and her regular, albeit diva, one.   
She had to admit it, a regular training, one that would set a distance and their clear roles, would probably be easier for Quinn, but Rachel wasn't sure that it was what she really needed. Her past relationships with dominants had been disastrous to say the least; careless, even cruel sometimes. She didn't want Quinn to associate her with those experiences, she wanted her to see just Rachel who, by chance, happened to be her Mistress too.   
"Quinn?"  
She turned around, hands still holding the breakfast cup under the stream of water, and Rachel surprised her grabbing her face and kissing her. For a few moments it was a one way kiss, until Rachel took the cup from Quinn's hold and put it down, turning her girlfriend in her arms so they were face to face. And then she kissed her again.  
"I wish I didn't have to go to the studios today." She kissed her again, and although Quinn never respond t she wasn't moving away either. "I wished I could just stay here and be lazy around my home." She pecked at her lips. "Are you going to be ok while I'm out?"  
"I've been home alone before." And there she was again. God, that girl seemed to have a real talent for being annoying. Leave it to that stubborn girlfriend of hers to make things harder when they could have just had a simple breakfast together.   
Play the smart move, Rachel, tune it down. Show her you are the one in control of the situation and you won't fall for her challenges. Come on!   
"I know." Rachel caressed her cheek, putting her best actress skills at work to appear as if she hadn't noticed the tone in Quinn's remark. "I'm gonna miss you though."  
The softness in Rachel's words got through Quinn and she unconsciously softened her tone too. "And you too have been at work before without me Rach."  
Rach. The brunette loved the way her name sounded when it came from her lips, the smirk that went with it and the hinted mocking at her tendency to live her life like a movie drama, like every separation was a lifetime goodbye. Rachel loved when Quinn shortened her name unfortunately, though, that wasn't the world Quinn was supposed to say in that moment.  
She pressed her index on Quinn's mouth. "Mistress." She said, their faces still close, just a finger between them.  
Quinn cursed herself mentally. It felt wrong to call Rachel her Mistress when she acted this caring towards her. A Mistress was someone who owned you, treated you like a possession, calling Rachel that felt like diminishing the love and affection they shared. And yet  
"Mistress." She repeated, her lips moving under Rachel's finger, hating that title now more than ever.  
Rachel detected the defeated note in the way Quinn pronounced that word, and she pulled her closer.  
"You know you can still play with me and say what is on your mind even if you call me Mistress, right?"  
"Yeah." Quinn licked her lips.   
It was a lie.  
The way people call you makes you what you are. If they call you Diva then you're a spoiled, self-centered prima donna; if they call you Berry you're a strong willed woman ready to bite with her words; if they call you Rach you're the caring friend that looks after them, you're the one that can look in other's hearts and see, and heal, their pain. And if they call you Mistress...   
"I'm sorry. Mistress." She added, her head still on Rachel's shoulder.  
"Hey, look, you've been inside the house for some days now, why don't you just go take a walk today? Go see Britt at her shop, help her out if you want or, I don't know, do what you feel like doing Quinn, something that can make you relax a little, ok?"  
Quinn looked at her even more confused. Usually slaves on training weren't granted permission to leave the house they were in, and certainly nobody ever gave her that chance before: not during the firsts years after the sorting, at the slave camp, and not during a claim, that was for sure. Some part of her thought it was a trick, a trap set to make her fail and punish her later, but another part of her dismissed that thought immediately: that was Rachel, she wouldn't do anything like that. Or would she?  
"You should go to work, Mistress, or you'll be late."  
"Right." The brunette waited a little longer, kissing Quinn on the cheek. "Go out, Quinn." She said to her getting her coat "just try to be home when I'll be back, ok?"  
Quinn nodded and stood there watching her leave and close the door behind her back. She heard the car engine start and the noise fading away when Rachel drove past their gate. Only then Quinn let herself fell into the chair, a tingling sensation on her cheek where Rachel's lips made contact with her skin, and a hole widening within her stomach.  
_____________________  
Third day and they set down to a sort of routine. They spent the early morning together, pretty much like they did before, taking breakfast together, talking a little, planning for the day. Rachel did most of the talking during those times, she would have done it anyway, probably, but since the training had started Quinn had been more silent than usual. It was a step back for Rachel, who had put so many time and effort in trying to make Quinn feel comfortable enough to talk freely to her. But it was to be expected, Quinn was adjusting, testing the boundaries, wetting her feet into something she thought she knew but that was actually different from what she experienced before.  
After breakfast Rachel went to the studios, She never offered Quinn the invitation to go with her at work, her scene with Raphael was still pretty fresh in her co-workers' minds and she was afraid they would tease her to no end. Besides she didn't want to be like one of those overprotective Mistress who didn't lose sight of their slaves. She wanted to leave her some freedom to do what she wanted. Especially during the training period. She had to know Rachel would never impose everything and anything on her, and that she would always leave her spaces. That tactic didn't seem to work though. She had tried to push Quinn to go out, maybe spent some time with Brittany, but every time she got back home she found out Quinn never moved from their home.   
It was so out of character for an outside person like Quinn, especially considering that she literally had claustrophobic panic attacks when she was confined in closed spaces.  
"She's afraid, Rach."  
"Of me?"  
"Of punishment, in general. A lot of slaves are confined within their Master's homes and in all honesty, I've never heard of a Mistress who let her slave out during her training period, so she probably thinks you want her to fail so you can punish her or something."  
Rachel walked to the garden. Quinn was upstairs, taking a bath, and she had taken the chance to phone Juliet to hear a friendly voice.  
"I'd never do that!"   
"I know that and you know that, but she doesn't. It's a perfectly logic assumption if you think about it. You're setting the grounds for her submission, and part of submission is punishment for the slave when she does something wrong. If she fails you or disobey you, she expects there will be consequences, and she's probably scared of that. Maybe not of the punishment itself but of you punishing her and what that could mean in your relationship."  
"Crossroad point."   
"Exactly. I'm just trying to take an educated guess here, but I think that after the first time you'll punish her she will look at you differently, one way or the other."   
"I don't want that."  
"Not really your choice, sweetie." Juliet voice was sweet but firm. In this play that was her life Rachel had casted her to interpret the voice of reason, that voiceover that both represented an omniscient narrator and the deepest thought of the main characters. The thoughts she never admit to herself to have. "Look, I know you're in love and all, but she seems to be the more reasonable of the two of you right now." Juliet continued. "She knows she will do something wrong sooner or later, and you will punish her for it, it's just a matter of time, and she's coping with it."  
Rachel pouted knowing, somehow, that Juliet was right. "So, what do I do?" She asked. "Besides tricking her into failing, which I have no intention to do, especially not now, when we're so close to her whipping, but even if we weren't so close I won't certainly do something like this. Never!"  
Juliet took a deep breath preparing herself for a one-breath-speech so that Rachel didn't have the time to interrupt her with her protests. "Putting aside that having her fail in a controlled environment might be a wiser choice than having her fail you when you don't expect it, because, really, have you ever taken a moment to think that your problems of your very first fight could come down to the both of you being unprepared for dealing with submission, but I'm not gonna battle you on this since I know you're stubborn enough to keep me on the phone for hours just notice that I advise you to reconsider your position, that being said are you asking a sub how to treat another sub?"  
Rachel pinched her nose. "Noted." Should she really trick Quinn into failing? Oh God, that was mean, and unfair and petty and maybe worth a try and absolutely a topic to pick up in a more fitting time. She sighed. One problem at the time. "Just to be clear, I'm asking my friend for an advice, I'm not really interested in social classes right now." She punctualized.  
"Good enough. Then my advice is: don't push her out of the house. Tell her she can go in the morning and ask her if she went when you come back, but no more than that. If you start questioning and poking around the subject she'll think you're up to something and it will reinforce her belief that you want to trick her."  
"So I'll just do nothing."  
"You've got plenty of things on your hands with her right now, just let this one go Rach."  
"Ok."  
"Ok?" Juliet asked surprised.  
"Ok." Rachel repeated.  
"You're losing your attitude Rachel Berry. I've never seen you accept an advice so easily. You're usually up for more of a fight."  
"I'm probably getting older."  
"Yes. Now that you mention it I think I saw you a strain of white hair the last time we s..."  
"Oh, shut up now!"  
On the other side of the phone Juliet laughed loudly. "Ok, ok, I'll be good, I promise."  
Rahel shook her head "Go to your Eric, J, have a little cuddling time."  
"Oh, I really hope we won't just cuddle, you know?"  
"Gross, Juliet."  
"You wish!" Rachel heard the smile still lingering on her friend's voice. "Call you tomorrow?"  
"Yes. Tomorrow."  
"Night Rach."  
"Night Juliet."  
______________  
She was sitting on the couch, a few papers scattered around her. 'Plans for the next summer brake' her agent called them but Rachel thought 'useless pilot or boring shit movies' was a more fitting definition. And yet she was reading, as usual, because she was already known as the Diva among many people in the business, she didn't need her agent to think that too.  
She spotted Quinn opening the door quietly, just as she did when she sneaked out of the school closet after one of their making out sessions.  
"Hey"  
Quinn jumped, surprised by her voice. "Oh, hi." She walked into the living room. The long sleeves of her white jersey were hanging down, completely covering her hands making her look more shy and vulnerable than ever. That was not a sight of Quinn Fabray you get often, she was so used to wearing her armor that she showed her most tender side only on a few selected occasions: when she was utterly, completely broken, when she wasn't aware of someone watching (and often this two melted together) or when she was awaken suddenly from sleep, not having the time to process through her wake up routine. And this last was, probably, just the case of that day.  
Quinn glanced at the clock on the wall briefly. It was a gesture out of instinct, but Rachel saw it.  
"Yeah, you're a little late. I thought I would find you here when I got back home."  
"I was at Santana's."  
"I imagined that."  
Quinn stood behind the couch opposite to Rachel, her hands on the top of the backrest. She felt compelled to explain simply because she couldn't handle the weight of Rachel's eyes on her. "I fell asleep."  
Rachel nodded. She knew that already, but Quinn didn't knew that she knew. That morning, while she was still at the studios working, Santana had called her to brief her on the situation.  
________  
"Dwarf!"  
"And hello to you too Santana." Rachel rolled her eyes. "You know, it would be nice if once in a while you could actually refer to me with my real name."  
"Sorry, BrainySmurf is too long. And enough of pleasantries, I'm not calling you to discuss names."  
"Then what do I owe the pleasure to?"   
"I thought you might wanna know that your girlfriend is currently asleep on my couch."  
"I was the one to suggest her to come see you and Britt. I thought it might do her some good."  
"You're missing the point, miss know-it-all. The key is not that she's on the couch letting my girlfriend snuggle and cuddle her like a peluche; the key, here, is that she is asleep."  
A waiting silence on the other side of the phone made Santana know that Rachel didn't realize the gravity of that.  
"I'm not supposed to be the one to tell you this since you're her girlfriend and you should already know it, but Quinn sleeps during afternoon only when she's ill or she's worried. And she's fever free right now, I've cheked. I believe this Raphael thing is affecting more than she'd like to admit."  
'Raphael, sure.' Rachel thought to herself. But there was no need to let Santana know what she was trying to do with Quinn. At least not yet.  
"I'll check on her, I promise San. But I have to go now."  
"What? Seriously? I'm talking to you!"  
"Stage call, San. I'm sorry."  
"Yeah, sure, whatever. That's what I get when I waste my daily good deed on you. Suit yourself Diva!"  
________  
"There there is no need to apologize Quinn. " Her voice was warm and calm "I know you aren't sleeping much these days, and it seems to me fairly normal that your body tried to rest when you let it. I'm not going to punish you for something that wasn't your fault."  
"You're not?" Quinn asked and Rachel wondered if she should be offended. What was Quinn thinking of her? Was she imagining as a monstrous Mistress who would whip her senseless just because she fell asleep after nights spent awake in tumultuous thoughts?  
"No, I'm not." She extended her hand inviting Quinn to join her. "Please, come kneel here."  
The relief of knowing she wouldn't be punished was so unexpected that Quinn didn't mind that much kneeling submissively at her feet. She bowed her head but Rachel immediately pushed her chin up again in a reassuring gesture.  
"So, how was your day?"  
"I..." Quinn stumbled at the improbability of that scene. Her, kneeling, talking about that day. She shook away the unpleasant feeling of not knowing what was going on, her inability to put that situation within the box she had learned to recognize during the years. Realizing she was silent for a while, now, she hurried to answer. "It was good."  
"Mistress." Rachel added.  
"It was good, Mistress." The blonde repeated.  
Rachel sighed. It was highly improbable that a long time slave like Quinn would forget etiquette so easily, therefore her frequent slips were due just to something else: her endless battle. Rachel wondered if there was even a chance, for her, to win, but repressed those thoughts knowing they would come back later, on a more fit time, when she would be alone.  
"So, what did you do?"  
And again Quinn hesitated. She hardly talked about her days with Britt or Santana and now she was supposed to do it with her Mistress? Or was it Rachel? Who was she talking to now?  
"Quinn?" The blonde's eyes refocused on the woman sitting on the couch. "What is on your mind?"  
"Nothing."  
The reply was too quick to be taken seriously. Quinn was once again hiding, keeping her distance.  
"I believe differently. That was not 'nothing', quite the opposite in fact. I would say that was something that is bothering you."  
"But there is not."  
She shook her head quickly. "Quinn Fabray, I do not like lies and I'm not going to let you move until you talk to me."  
The exact moment she heard her voice pronouncing that words Rachel knew the incredible mistake she had just made.  
'Fuck Rachel, you just challenged her, you idiot!'  
Quinn's expression hardened in resolution, her features turning marmoreal as she jumped on the chance to prove herself that she wasn't changed that much, that she was still the untamed painslut she trained herself to be. The one who didn't submit, the one who would always find a way to reaffirm that she was a free woman, taking her own decision, even if they lead to bad consequences.  
Rachel panicked. She trapped herself in the corner. There was no way to misunderstood that look on Quinn's face, the way her appearance switched in just a moment, the confidence and stubbornness that now seemed to glow out of her body. She was a fucking living defiance.  
For a moment they stood still and Rachel prayed for a miracle, for the last 15 seconds of their conversation to be erased from the time continuum, but when no vortex showed up in their living room sucking up time, she was left with just one choice.  
'Rachel Berry, you put yourself in this position' she said to herself 'and now you drag yourself out of it!'  
She leaned back on the couch, knowing that now she would have to wait for Quinn to call her shot.  
_____________  
It was a common belief that no dominant could learn how to treat a sub just reading books or taking classes, you had to see it with your own eyes, and you had to feel it on your skin and breath it in your lungs. Therefore all the new dominants were required to assist an older dominant with their submissives and slaves for at least a couple of months.  
When Rachel Berry took all her dominant courses she was assigned to a man named Greg. He was past his forties and had no clamed slave but he did have some subs who lived in his home. He was the one who thought her that what she knew was  
______  
"Bullshit."  
"Excuse me?"  
"Bullshit, Rachel. Anyone who pretends to teach you something other than basic whip using and how to take care of a wound is just talking bullshit. No slave is like the other and pretending to apply some standard modus operandi with anyone is crazy. The best thing you can do is try to learn as you go, remembering that you're learning about her as much as she's learning about you. It's a two way process, Rach, and sometimes she makes mistakes, sometimes you make mistakes."  
She watched him have lunch with milk and cereals while his sub shook her head, behind him. She had tried to make him eat properly but he smiled her off with his mantra "Milk and cereals are my fetish, my love." And she had to handle him the milk.  
"You see, Rachel, a good dominant is someone who learns from his mistakes" he said chewing like he hadn't eaten in days "but a great dominant" he pointed the spoon at her "is the one who knows how to admit his errors."  
______  
The scene kept repeating in her mind over and over again as she sat on the couch in silence. It had been almost three hours since she dared challenging Quinn and from that moment time froze. They were stuck in that situation. Quinn kneeling on the ground, hands folded in her lap, her breath so even and light you could easily believe she was experimenting some kind of deep meditation; and Rachel, exploring in her mind the endless possibilities of their scene. How would it end? There was one, among the gazillion possible futures, where that situation would turn out ok for the both of them?  
Rachel closed her eyes letting her head rest on the couch. Three hours, and she was bored. Worried and bored, at the same time. She wasn't used to lay lazily like that, doing nothing, and it was getting on her nerves. Still, she wasn't really 'doing nothing'. She was resisting. She was making a point with Quinn. Which was important, right? It had to be, because she wouldn't let herself waste so much time if it wasn't for the most important reason in the world. Her Quinn. The love of her life.  
She raised an eyelid to spy on her. Quinn was shifting uncomfortably, fingers clenched into a fist inside the sleeves of her white sweater. It had been almost three hours since they stopped talking and Rachel sensed it was getting a little too much. She didn't want Quinn to be uncomfortable, never the less she wanted her to be in pain, that was not the point of it.  
She got up and grabbed Quinn's shoulder, gently leading her to sit down, her back on the couch. The blonde let Rachel maneuver her body as she wished but when she saw she was offering a chance to rest she raised a questioning eyebrow.  
"You seem to be taking your time with your answer Quinn." Rachel answered the unspoken question "and I believe your knees might benefit some rest now."  
Quinn looked ahead. Since when there was resting time during punishment?  
"You might want to stretch your legs too. Don't keep them bent, it will do you good." Rachel added as she absently sat down on the floor next to her girlfriend, shoulders almost touching. She let her head fall back on the couch seat and closed her eyes.  
Twenty minutes passed before Rachel invited Quinn to kneel again and the blonde complied with just the slight hesitation. An hour after that Rachel rose and went in the kitchen. Quinn heard them move around and then she saw her coming back with two glasses. She sat again on the ground and offered one to her.  
"Aren't you thirsty?" She asked when Quinn didn't move to take it.  
"Yes."  
Rachel hold the glass a little closer to her. "Orange juice. I swear I didn't spike it!" She joked and Quinn finally took it with a forced smile.  
"Thank you."  
"Mistress."  
Again. Was she doing it on purpose or was she really just fighting the idea?  
"Thank you, Mistress."  
She nodded sipping her own drink. There were so many things they could have done in that time, so many games, and experience, and discoveries, and exciting times that awaited ahead of them and, instead, there they were, wasting precious hours in a stupid will battle none of them wanted to lose.  
But it was important, Rachel told herself, it was pivotal to their relationship.  
'How you will handle her first challenge is what will define you in her eyes. Give up and you might as well as surrender right now; punish her and you might as well open the door for her to run.' She reminded herself.  
But was there even a third way? Wasn't that a right or left situation? Black or white? just two choices?  
________  
"And you know what else makes you a good dominant? Element of surprise. There are so many Master and Mistress, out there, who play it by the book, and that's..."  
"Let me guess. Bullshit?"  
Greg laughed. "You're learning kid. Yes, it's bullshit. I have yet to met a slave who hasn't tried to top me from the bottom. All of them, sooner or later, try to take control. The more they're smart, the more they know you, the more they think they can pull it off. But here's the thing Rachel. A slave is thought she has but two options: obey or disobey. Most of them think that way, binary. Like a computer. It's up to you, when they try to fool you, to let them know that there is always a third way. The unexpected. The surprise. Think out of the box." He finished eating one last spoon of cereals "That's how you really dominate them."  
___________  
Another hour passed and Rachel had to sit on her hands to prevent herself from fidgeting, but that wasn't helping much. Her stomach was about to start growling and she got up, headed to the kitchen.  
A simple act like walking was enough to wake her senses and mind. Having to stay still for so long had brought her to a state of numbness and torpor that had made her nervous. She wandered how could Quinn do it, and if she was used to be like this, trapped her inside her mind. Did many dominants forbid her to move? How could she stay lucid even in those occasions?  
She came back on the lounge and, once again, let Quinn sit down on the floor.  
"Dinner time is come and past, here, take some." Rachel handed her some crackers that Quinn didn't take  
"Why are you sitting here?" She asked instead, staring at the brunette with such an intensity, like she wanted to pierce her with just a glare. "Do you think I'm such a lowlife that I won't face the punishment for my mistakes?"  
Rachel held her hand in midair, surprised. Did she believe she was actually surveilling her? Like if she was a child in need of someone to watch over her?  
"This is not a punishment, Quinn." Rachel explained quietly. "I'm waiting for your answer, and there is no other place for me to be than next to you." The other woman bit her lower lip, unsure, and Rachel felt the need to explain. "I told you I wasn't going to let you go unless you talked to me, that meant I wasn't moving either."  
Quinn took the crackers and started to eat.  
Sometimes, after she asked Quinn to kneel again, Rachel's phone started to sing a pop song. Once. Twice, Three times. At the fourth start of guitar on a drumbeat an impetiant Quinn asked if she wasn't going to answer that.  
Noticing the annoyance in her voice Rachel hid a smug smile, thinking that maybe, just maybe, even the untamed Quinn Fabray was reaching her limit.  
"I'm busy right now." She turned her head on the right, looking at her tired and thoughtful woman. "Maybe you don't realize it but when I'm with you, Quinn Fabray, you have my undivided attention. Everything else can wait."  
She clearly saw Quinn taking aback and she realized her words hit the right spot.  
Point for Berry, Febrary's serve. Set point.   
____________  
She was sitting with her head popped up on her hand, quietly watching Quinn, taking in all the small details like the twitch of her upper lip and the higher frequency of her blinking,  
"Do you have to go to the bathroom?"  
It was half past midnight, it had been the longest 8 hours of her life. Except for short brakes to get food and drinks, she had spent the whole time with Quinn. No distractions, no readings, no music, no tv. She did what she told Quinn: she waited. For as long as Quinn made her wait.  
The blonde woman didn't look at her. It was clear that she had to use the bathroom, but she wasn't going to just say it like that because admitting it would be like placing a weapon in Rachel's hands.  
"You can go, you know." Rachel said to her in a conversational tone "As long as when you come back you talk to me."  
Quinn pondered her word for a moment. "And what if I don't?"  
Rachel smiled. "You play by the rules Quinn, you always did and I trust you still do."  
Rachel couldn't help but be a little surprised by the turns of the events during the night. If, at first, it seemed she was the one to have to chose between giving up or punishing Quinn, now the odds were reversed. It was Quinn, now, that had to choose between giving up or just peeing on herself. Rachel didn't need to order or forbid her anything, didn't have to push Quinn one way or the other, risking to lose her along the way, she could just let her girl worn out to her limits before she took her decision. And Rachel already had an idea of what it would be.  
Quinn fought to the last of her pride and energies, for almost another hour, wiggling, tightening her eyes; and when the stomach ache turned into a light pain she tried to will away the urge to pee, appealing to the rock bottom of her energies, her blind resolution, her stubbornness.  
Until she gave up.  
Swinging, on her way to the bathroom, the urge to pee so pressant, and her legs weak after long hours kneeling, she made it to the bathroom, cursing herself.  
___________  
Quinn splashed some water on her face letting it drip as she stood bended on the sink.  
Fuck.  
Cold water woke her numb senses. She was angry with herself, and angry with Rachel for having trapped her in that situation.  
But it wasn't Rachel choice, right? It was hers. When Rachel challenged her so many hours before she could have let it go, made it easy, consider it just one of those things that dominants say, sometimes, that people say, with no real intention behind it. But no, of course not, she was Quinn fucking Fabrary, and she never let a challenge go, did she?  
Hence the long afternoon. Hence the endless night. Hence the loss she was facing now. Defeated, by her own rules, by a confrontation she fueled herself.  
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!  
The worst thing was knowing Rachel was right. She did play by the rules, she did have a sense of justice, a strong pride that, once she took a decision, made her go through it to the end, facing the consequences of her choices.  
It was one thing to outsmart the dominants, which was fine and, actually, quite some fun too; but cheating was totally different, and not admissible by her own high standards.  
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. A few weeks ago, when Rachel claimed her, saving her from the hell that her life had become, she had barely recognized the woman staring back at her in that same mirror. She was so skinny and pale, black circled eyes, lost in thought of tiredness and pain, so glassy and shallow like a doll's eyes. A human doll. A soulless woman. A lost cause.  
Now, instead, there she was, Quinn Fabrary, some more pounds on her bones, the dark circles around her eyes were long gone, as were most of the bruises on her body. The nightmares lingered still, but she was able to push them away most of the times.  
She dried her face and walked back on the lounge.  
_______  
"You confuse me." Quinn's cheek were slightly red like she had been jogging instead of simply kneeling on the floor. She had been there for five minutes before she realized that Rachel wasn't going to ask her anything and she was merely expecting her to talk.  
"How so?"  
"I wasn't here when you came home. I disobeyed an order but you didn't punish me." She said thinking back to the moment she saw Rachel sitting on the couch a few hours earlier, that knot in the stomach when she realized she had come home late. "You keep saying we have to act like Mistress and slave but you don't."  
"Did you want to be punished?" Rachel made it sound like a genuine question, but it fueled Quinn's anger  
"No." The answer came quickly and without hesitation and Rachel expected nothing less.  
Rachel's mind was working at high speed even if her appearance remained calm and controlled she was spinning. She felt like a videogame character, forced on an action sequence, with a split of a second to decide what direction to take, where to duck, shoot or hide.  
"Is it so hard to kneel next to me?" She asked.  
Quinn looked up. She was moments away from crying. how could she ask her something like that? Why didn't she understand that kneeling was one of the hardest thing she had to do? It wasn't meant to just put you in a disadvantaged position if you ever had the unfortunate idea of trying to rebel or escape; it wasn't meant to be just a punishment, a very uncomfortable position that could degenerate into real pain sometimes, it was more than anything a constant humiliation for the slave forced to look up at everyone else, a continuous reminder of her lower status.  
"You don't know what it's like."  
"Right, I don't know. I'm asking you" Rachel said. "Is it so terrible to kneel for me?"  
Quinn swallowed. She didn't want to answer, she didn't want to admit, to herself first, that Rachel made that humiliating act something that, God help her, she almost enjoy. The times Rachel sat on the floor with her, at the same eye level, just talking; the way she hugged her from behind, resting her chin on Quinn's shoulder, in silence, while she was kneeling on the floor; the way she crouched in front of her lifting up her head so they could watch each other and then started kissing her, so slowly and tenderly, caressing her cheeks until she lost consciousness of her position and leaned on that touch. Rachel made it look so natural. She turned an act of submission into something that not only wasn't painful nor humiliating but, God forbid, into something Quinn found slightly enjoyable.  
"Don't do this to me?" The blonde pleaded almost crying.  
"Do what?"  
"You're turning me into someone else."  
"I'm not doing anything Quinn I'm just..."  
"Please!"  
This time Quinn looked up and Rachel could see the tears at the corners of her eyes. And that was it. She grabbed Quinn's elbows helping her up. With a hand on the back of Quinn's neck she gently pulled her head down to rest on her shoulder, letting her other arm slip around Quinn's wais in a hug. Rachel hold her for a moment, long enough for Quinn to get back in control of her emotions.  
When the brunette released her she hold her chin between her finger.  
"We agreed on a week and the week ends tomorrow. Can you give me" she stopped to correct herself "can you give us until then?"  
Just a moment before she would have said no but then Rachel had hold her giving her the time to collect herself, even the privacy to do it with her face hid on her shoulder and now she felt so stupid. Why in the world would she crack up like that for something so irrelevant? She had endured whips and chains, days without sleep, god, she was even buried alive, she can surely hold on 24 more hours, couldn't she?  
Quinn nodded and Rachel took her hand to kiss her knuckles.   
"It's late already. What about you go and change for bed now?"  
___________  
Quinn felt the mattress shift when Rachel climbed on it. She sensed the brunette crawling from the bottom, hands moved to her pants slowly sliding them down, uncovering the upper part of her ass.  
Quinn's body tensed immediately as Rachel fingertips began to move on her skin and were soon followed by her mouth.  
Not tonight, please. Not tonight.  
Quinn closed her eyes tight. She was so tired and drained, from the earlier confrontation with Rachel that she couldn't even rationalize what was happening. Her fingers clenched the sheets when Rachel's tongue licked the curve of her lower back.  
Just breathe, Quinn.  
Quinn had to remind herself to inhale when she realized she had been holding her breathe for a while now. Her whole body was so taut and tense it would probably start trembling soon.   
Her mind raced, cursing the other woman. Why was she doing it? Why tonight, of all nights? Why couldn't Rachel give her a break? Didn't she already break her enough for today?  
For three nights before she had done the same thing, trying to make love to her, but she always stopped when she felt Quinn was uncomfortable. Now, instead, Rachel's hands were moving slowly but deliberately, and it didn't feel like she wanted to end it anytime soon.  
The brunette lifted her top uncovering her back some more. Her hand slided on her hips and then under her body, on her abs, as Rachel's tongue kept working on her back.   
Quinn's stomach closed and she shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Rachel didn't seem to notice her discomfort or, if she did, she decided to ignore it moving her hand up the blonde's breast, cupping it.  
___________  
She hoped she wasn't going too far.  
She wasn't sure how Quinn was feeling. She knew, rationally, that she was probably tired and a little out of focus after the afternoon and evening they spent together, and she knew that hat she was asking of her was like making her to run the 100m after having her marathon for 42 km: it was unfair, to say the least, and it meant pushing her to the limits. And yet Rachel was adamant about it: this was the time, she knew it, because if Quinn could do it now, in this distressed situation, it meant they had gone past their biggest issue.  
Please, Quinn, please, just talk!  
She slid her hand under Quinn's body, caressing her abs. She could feel her react to that touch tensing even more. Her breath deepened and when she moved to fondle her breast Rachel heard her inhaling sharply.  
Come on Quinn!  
She rubbed her nipple under her top, pushing herself a little further than the previous nights.   
The first night Rachel moved things slowly. She asked Quinn to lay on her bed and kissed her for a long time. She wasn't stupid, she knew Quinn wasn't ready yet, and as a matter of fact, she had no intention to go all the way with Quinn. The purpose of her actions wasn't sex at all.  
She carefully surveilled Quinn's body language and when she felt that their kisses were starting to make her uncomfortable she stopped immediately, lingering for a moment, just enough to whisper to her ear  
"You can trust me, Quinn. You can say to me what you want. Or what you don't want."  
That night, while Rachel moved to her spot on the bed, Quinn rolled on her side, without giving her as much as another look, and Rachel had watched her back silently as the blonde's breathe calmed down and finally became even and regular.  
The second night Rachel went further. She didn't just kissed her but she let her hands wonder on Quinn's body too. She felt Quinn reach and pass her comfort zone while she was trailing a line of kisses from her neck down to her breast. She insisted a little while longer, careful to keep her actions as sweet and gentle as possible, and when she saw Quinn wasn't going to relax in any way, she stood up so that their faces where just a few inches apart.  
"Do you want me to stop?" She asked.  
Quinn had bitten her lip, closing her eyes, and when she opened them again after a moment Rachel got her answer in a form of a pleading look.  
She moved away.  
The third night she set the bar even higher. By now Quinn was expecting and fearing Rachel's attempts and she was able to maintain control a little more. Rachel alternated a slow and throughtful exploration of her girlfriend's body with long, passionate kisses. She didn't want Quinn to slip away to her escape world where she ran to protect herself from dominants, so she kept kissing her calling her back to reality whenever she felt like Quinn was drifting away. Soon Quinn's breath quickened. Her head faced the other way as she shifted trying to slip away from under Rachel.  
The brunette felt Quinn's hand on her shoulder and, for a moment, thought that she might be reacting, but her hand just laid there as if she didn't dare to push her away.  
Rachel took her hand and kissed it, then she moved up so that her mouth was close to Quinn's ear.  
"If you want me to stop" she whispered "you have to say it out loud."  
She saw Quinn's eye widen and she could imagine the fear taking over her girlfriend. She knew how many dominants used the submissives' fears and desires to their own advantage, and she had no problems picturing doms and dommes using ever bit of information they could get from Quinn to bring her to submission. She wasn't surprised by Quinn's reaction, after all she was asking her to admit her weakness to a dominant, and that meant going against all her believes.  
"Don't make me do this." The blonde woman pleaded.  
Rachel felt a sting in her heart but she steeled herself. "I'll always listen to you, Quinn. Trust me, please." She waited a moment to see if Quinn would say something and when she didn't she lowered herself once again. She kissed the blonde's cheek, keeping her touches more chaste but still relentless. Her thumb brushed Quinn's other cheek and she felt some tears wet her fingers.  
"I'll stop the moment you ask me to, Quinn. Always." She whispered before kissing her just under the ear.  
Despite the fact that she confined her actions to Quinn's face and neck, the blonde woman was still deeply upset. Her chest was rising in ragged and quick breathes. She shut her eyes tight and turned her head. Rachel didn't let her escape, and gently brought her face back into place and kissed the corner of her mouth while letting her hand trail down the curve of her neck on her shoulder nearing her breast.  
"S-stop?"   
It came out as a frightened stutter and Quinn closed her eyes shout tightly.   
Rachel stilled for a moment, surprised by that cracked voice. She knew how hard it must have been for Quinn to pronounce that simple word. She wished she could hug her in a bone-breaking embrace, and tell her how incredibly brave she had been and how honored she felt that Quinn was trusting her that way but that wasn't the time. Maybe the day after, or at the end of the week, she would finally be able to tell her how grateful she was that Quinn tried that much, but in that moment she just needed to do what Quinn asked, so she rolled off her.   
And now, forth night in a row, she was once again on top of Quinn and her actions were getting a little more aggressive. She slid her left hand under Quinn's pants, on her asscheek and moving down, on her thigh, rubbing it roughly as her mouth kissed her lower back nibbling and licking her.  
Please, Quinn!  
Rachel was mentally inciting Quinn to stop her. The other three nights she had always be the one to give Quinn the prompt but tonight she wanted Quinn to do it on her own because, God forbid, if one day Rachel missed or misinterpreted the signals, it would be up to Quinn to call it off.  
With the corner of her eye she saw Quinn grasp at the sheets and she cursed herself.  
Ten seconds, Rach, then you stop, no matter what. She told herself.  
Time slowed down becoming a sequence of still polaroids, one after the other.  
Come on Quinn! Just say it  
Brief moments turning into endless timespaces during which part of Rachel's mind screamed to Just stop, Rachel, she won't do it. Stop now! and another part battled to give her girlfriend a few more seconds because She can do it, you know it, so let her do it!  
And then came the sound.  
"Please..."  
It was muffled by the pillows, and barely a whisper itself, but Rachel was so eager to hear that voice that she detected it anyway. She stilled silently thanking all the Gods and Barbara herself.  
"Please what, Quinn?" The steadiness of her voice surprised even Rachel. She sounded like she was in complete control while, really, she was very close to freaking out herself.  
"Please... stop." The other woman repeated. "Mistress."  
Rachel let out a sigh of relief.  
She couldn't believe Quinn did it. She hoped she could do it, she cheered for her girlfriend throughout the all deal, but there was a tiny part of her the always doubted Quinn and herself. A scared little Rachel in her head that told her she would fuck everything up if she kept on going on with her plan, that Quinn was too broken to be ever be able again to trust a dominant in that way ever again.   
But that little Rachel had been wrong, and the big Rachel, the old Rachel, couldn't be more proud of her girlfriend. She retrieved her hands and rolled over in the bed, next to Quinn.  
The blonde was facing away from her. She saw her exhale a long, slow breathe when she rolled over. She must have been holding her breath after she spoke, afraid of what might happen next, afraid that Rachel would use her weakness to torture her, like everybody else did.  
It was a dangerous play the one she had just played, but Rachel always knew there was no way around it. Since Quinn was still a kid there was no way to gain her trust with simple words. You had to prove yourself with your actions and your behavior. Rachel could have sworn on Barbara's life that she would stop if Quinn asked her too, and still Quinn wouldn't be able to believe her. She had to prove it, and there was only one way to do it: put Quinn in the position to ask, and then show her that she could listen and respect her limits rather than exploiting and using them as the other dominants did.  
She scooted a little closer to Quinn, careful to leave an empty space between them. She didn't want to touch her, risking to upset her again, but she needed to be close to her girlfriend and to be reassured that her Quinn was still in one piece.   
Playing with fire was dangerous, but playing with a broken slave could be catastrophic.   
________  
Quinn wasn't sure how much time had passed since Rachel moved off her leaving her freaked out and alone. It took her quite some time to finally calm down and process what had just happened.  
There had been a moment, while Rachel was kissing her ass, when darkness had closed around her and she felt like falling. Images of Rachel and other dominants flashed through her mind, images of him, of Raphael, who used to kiss her like that once.  
She hated that her body was starting to respond to those ministrations and she tried to get away only to find out that she couldn't. Rachel was keeping her there. Rachel. It was Rachel's mouth. Not Raphael. Maybe. She didn't know anymore. She kept her eyes closed, in the childish fear that if she couldn't see what was scaring then it couldn't hurt her. She was trying hard to stay there, to stay focused, because if she let her mind wonder away she would have found herself in his dungeon again.  
You're ok, Quinn, you're fine!  
But she wasn't. She was drifting away, breathing was getting harder, she grasped at the sheets.  
Sheets I'm in a bedroom, Rachel's bedroom, I'm fine.  
When she felt her lower back been licked she lost it, darkness closed around her mind and her body reacted on its own.  
"Please."  
It was a surprise even for her hearing her voice pleading Rachel to stop. She felt the other woman still and wait for a brief moment.   
"Please what, Quinn?"  
It was ok, it was Rachel's voice. She was safe. As safe as she could be.  
She appealed to the very last bit of lucidity she still had. "Please... stop." She whispered. "Mistress."  
She felt like crying. The chant got louder and faster and all she could hear was the sound of her own voice echoing in her head.  
...don't hurt me please don't hurt me please please please don'thurt me please don'thurt me please...  
She didn't even realized Rachel was gone at first. It took her a moment to feel that there was no one to weight on her back anymore. She turned on her side, facing away from Rachel hands pillowed under her cheek.  
She stopped.  
Rachel stopped.  
________________  
It was highly improbable that she would be able to sleep that night. Her stomach was still twisting and in the lasts minutes she had grown restless. She sat up on the bed, a hand slowly massaging her stomach. Her mind drifted back to Rachel and what she did before that same night and Quinn sighed frustrated.  
"Quinn?"  
She turned and saw Rachel with her hand popped up in her hand. Quinn had thought Rachel was already asleep when she got up but, looking at her in that moment, she realized she had been awake and watching over her all time.  
"Are you ok?"  
"Yeah." Quinn dismissed her.   
Rachel didn't seem to believe her but played along. "Stomachache?" She asked looking down at Quinn's hand on her abs.  
Quinn stopped the soothing movement at Rachel mention and smiled lightly, shaking her head. "No, just a reflex, I guess." She let the hand fell on her lap. "I'm fine, really. Go back to sleep."  
Rachel tilted her head looking at her intensely, as if she was trying to read her mind. "Do you want to go out to take some air?"  
That suggestion surprised Quinn. She hadn't thought of that, mainly because she didn't had the liberty to go out at night for a very long time now.  
Seeing Quinn consider her offer was enough for Rachel to decide it was the right thing to do. She got up and offered her hand to Quinn. "Backyard garden?"   
Quinn stared at the hand for a little while as if it was an alien object and then looked up at Rachel smiling reassuringly to her. Then, without answering, she took the hand and followed Rachel outside.  
It was past three in the morning and the only sound were two male cats in heat fighting each other. She stepped on the grass only to find out that it was wet and move back on the porch.   
"Better sit on the bench."  
Quinn nodded absently. Rachel helped her down and told her to wait. There was a half moon night but the backyard was well lightened despite everything. She could hear distant noises of a car driving by their street and she wondered who was still up and around at that hour of the night in their neighborhood. Except troubled slaves, of course.  
"Here, take this." Rachel returned with a blanket that she wrapped around Quinn. "Do you want me to keep you company?" She asked.  
"No, thank you." Quinn tried to sound convincing. "Go back to bed, I don't want to keep you up. I'll be back in a minute I don't really..."  
Rachel interrupted her placing a hand on her knee. "Stay as long as you want Quinn." She got up. "Just try not to catch a cold, ok?"  
Quinn smiled back "I'll be back up soon." She repeated.  
Rachel nodded and left to go back to their room.  
Quinn crossed her legs and tightened the blanket around her torso. It wasn't a cold night but it was still 3 a.m. and she was wearing only a top and a pair of sweatpants. She lifted her head up to look at the sky. The city lights prevented her from seeing the stars and creating a sick reddish cloud above her head. She closed her eyes leaning her head on the wall.  
'Just a few moments.' She told herself. 'Just until this feeling is gone.'   
With her eyes closed her mind ran back to the days on the Tower and she soaked herself in the memory of that feeling, the endless space surrounding her, the chance to be just what she wanted to be. As the memory took over that block on her stomach that had kept her awake melted and soon after that she found herself drifting into sleep.


	14. You're an animal

**Thanks again to all of you for keep reading this story. We're almost to the end here :)**

* * *

Five minutes past seven in the morning and she was already up and showering.

After helping Quinn downstairs and out in the backyard garden she went back to bed only to find herself staring at the ceiling for more than an hour. There was a solitary bluebottle flying in the darkness of the room, somewhere above her head, that kept her company while Morfeo stubbornly refused to come to visit her. She had tossed and turned on the bed, and every time she moved she registered the missing body by her side. They were sleeping together just for a short amount of time and yet her body was already used to the way the matrass shifted when Quinn laid down.

When she shared the bed with Juliet it was never like that. Sometimes they spent nights together, sometimes they didn't, but she never felt her loss as she was feeling Quinn's now.

She dozed off for about an hour, then she woke again shivering from the cold. She rolled on to her side stretching her arm to look for Quinn, her personal hot water bottle, and when she didn't find her, her eyes snapped open. She was still downstairs and it was 5.48 in the morning.

_'She probably fell asleep.'_  Rachel thought, and for a brief moment considered the idea of going to check on her but she dismissed it quickly, knowing it would end up with her unintentionally waking Quinn up and making her feel observed and controlled. _'You wanted to give her her space so do it, Berry. Let her be.'_

Besides Quinn was having some problems sleeping, lately, if she was really resting she should just let her.  _'Give her space'_ she thought and as soon as those words formed in her mind an image swam into focus. A three house in their back yard, a wooden platform large enough for more than one sleep bag, or for a very agitated person who would toss around in her sleep, and an old wooden box to use as a bedside table.  _'With a glass ceiling, so she can see the stars.'_  She smiled.

That was actually a good idea. It could give Quinn a comfortable space to consider just her own and a safe sanctuary from her nightmares. Yep. She definitely had to check with some handyman about building it.  _'Maybe for her birthday, huh Rach? Could be a nice gift'._

Yes, that could really be the right thing to do. It hadn't been lost on Rachel how Quinn seemed to walk in the house like she was still a guest. Working together on the garden had been the first step in making her feel at home but it didn't prove to be enough and every time Rachel thought about it she felt remorseful thinking that it was her job to make her feel welcomed and at home and she was clearly failing.

_'It's not even 7 and you're already thinking about your failings. Rachel Berry!'_  She scoolded herself  _'That's no way to start a day. Get up, smile and be happy!'_

She took a quick shower and walked down to cook some breakfast. She peaked in the garden from the window above the sink and saw just the top of Quinn's head leaning on the bench. She was, indeed, still asleep.

She prepared some pancakes and took the black cherry syrup she bought for Quinn. It was half past seven by now and the sky was still a depressing gray canvas promising nothing but a dull day. She ate silently and mentally went through the next few hours. She had asked Quinn to be her slave up until that evening and their time was running short. There was no way she would use even one minute more than what they agreed on. With the pending menace of the close encounter with Rapahel she had to give Quinn at least a day to decompress and ready herself before facing Raphael.

She chewed another bite from her pancake, collecting the syrup that dripped on the plate with her finger and licked it clean. In the silence of that morning she heard the first raindrops hitting and she looked up to see that a thin but constant rain had started to fall. Sighing she walked outside.

She meant to wake Quinn up gently but as soon as she touched her shoulder the blonde woman woke up startled, grasping Rachel's wrist tightly, ready to defend herself.

"It's me." Rachel tried to reassure her. "You're ok."

For a few moments Quinn looked at her unfocused, then she realized where she was and she let go of Rachel's hand.

The brunette took a step back deciding to ignore Quinn's reaction.

Quinn sat up and brought a hand to her neck, massaging it, trying to ease off the pain and stiffness after the hours she had spent in that akward position on the bench.

"Hi." She said in a rusty voice, her eyes dazzled by the skylight.

"Here." Rachel offered her hand. "Come sleep inside."

"It's morning." The blonde said, and probably, in her still tired mind it sounded like something coherent with their dialogue.

"Yep, it is. But it's still early, you can sleep some more on the couch." She reached for her cheek but Quinn jercked away by instinct.

"I'm... Sorry." She brushed her hair with her hands, trying to hide the embarassment for her reaction with those gestures. "I'm awake now. Don't need to sleep anymore." She changed topic and raised her head to quircking her lip up a bit. Rachel was still offering her hand.

"Breakfast then." She proposed. "I made pancakes this morning and I already tested them. They're good, I promise."

* * *

Breakfast, Quinn had find out since she had been claimed by Rachel, could be a very nice way to start a day. She had to admit it still felt weird having someone actually cooking for her. Santana wasn't really the cooking type and Brittany, God bless her, could easily turn a happy meal into a massive intoxication case.

Before her sorting Quinn liked to cook and for a while, even after she had been sorted as submissive, she kept on cooking whenever she could. But then came the endless claimings, her painslut reputation, and the days and nights when she came home so tired and drained that cooking was the last thing in her mind. She barely had the strength, or the will, to grab something to eat, and even when she could find that strength it didn't really mattered what it was, or how it tasted, as long as it kept her alive and kicking.

But then came Rachel, and with Rachel everything was different.

She had her breakfast in silence, while Rachel cleared the sink, and after that, just as Rachel suggested, she took a hot shower to melt away the cold that penetrated in her bones during the night. She felt like there was sand scrubbing the back of her eyes, small points of light dancing erratically in her field vision and remaining impressed in her eyelids when she closed them.

_'Sure, Quinn, you're awake huh? No need to sleep more.'_

She spent half hour under the hot stream of water, letting the warm liquid wake up her muscles slowly, simply enjoying the feeling. One never appreciates the small luxuries of life until they're taken away from you, she knew that well, and as long as she was permitted to indulge in luxuries such as hot showers she was going to enjoy them.

_'As long?'_  She shook her head.  _'Yes, as long.'_ Her instinct reminded her.

As much as she trusted and loved Rachel there was a part of her that was always, and probably always would be, on her heels, waiting for things to go wrong.

Maybe Rachel cared for her, maybe she loved her as much as she did, maybe there were destined to be together for the rest of their lives, but life for a slave wasn't meant to be safe. Or, at least, it never was for Quinn.

She dried herself and walked down again in the kitchen only to find it empty but, through the open door, she saw Rachel sitting on the couch, legs folded beneath her and a book in her hand.

"Feeling better?" She asked never lifting her eyes from the page.

"Yes, way better, thank you."

Rachel looked up. No, she didn't look that much better. Slightly, yes; much, no way! It didn't take someone as observant as Rachel to see that the shower hadn't complitely washed away the tired look on Quinn's face, and that her eyes wondered more than usual, as if she wasn't still able to focus properly.

She closed the book with a loud thump. "Can you please come closer?"

Quinn walked next to the couch and when Rachel looked down, pointing at the floor, she kneeled there, eyes cast down.

Rachel pushed her chin up, once again, as she did almost everytime since they agreed on this try out, knowing very well that Quinn's posture was one of many signs that, even if they have made some relevant progress, the road was still long.

"Do you still want to keep your end of the bargain Quinn?" Rachel asked receiving a simple nod as answer. "Ok, then. I want you to go in our bedroom and open the second drawer in the closet. Bring me what's inside."

Quinn got up without questioning her orders and quietly walked upstairs. The bathroom door was still open as she left it, but it seemed to her that it was the door of another universe. When she stepped out of it, just a couple of minutes before, she was Quinn Febray and now, instead, she was just a slave. She sighed, pushing those thoughts away, and opened the drawer Rachel indicated her.

She stared at the content for a few seconds and then closed her eyes, smiling sadly.

Of course. That was what her Mistress would want to use on her. It was a power play, after all, and she had been stupid enough to show a weakness before.

_'Stupid, stupid Quinn. Things never change, when are you going to learn that?'_

She pushed back the tears that threatened to fall and steeled herself. She had given her world, and Quinn Fabray would keep her end of the bargain. Always did. Always will.

She took the content of the drawer and walked back downstairs.

* * *

Rachel was waiting for her and she saw Quinn walk down the stairs and stop in the doorframe of their lounge, holding a pair of black leathered cuffs in her hands. Her gaze was got lost for a few moments somewhere on the wall behind Rachel's shoulders and then trailed down to the cuffs.

"Why?"

Rachel was surprised by the question but not totally unprepared. She didn't think Quinn would find the courage to speak so openly but she had carefully planned her actions so it wasn't a problem, for her, to answer that question.

"Because that's what triggered you." Rachel sounded calmer than how she actually felt while she walked over to her. "Last time, when I wanted to use them, it was wrong." She said without trying to excuse her actions and placing her hands above Quinn's. "It came out of nowhere and I didn't leave you with any choice. It was a huge mistake and I regret it, but I'm hoping this time will be different. You know what we're doing and why. Maybe this will..." She stopped when she saw Quinn lower her head breaking eye contact.

"Do you know how this feels?" The blonde woman asked and then paused, waiting for a sign that she could really go on talking. Rachel let her arms fall to her sides. "It feels like you saying me that the first time we fought it was all my fault and that I was wrong. Because you 're making me go through this again, like if I had to learn that I can't escape the cuffs, that I can't refuse them or even think about it. Is this the message? Learn the lesson? And like a stupid child who failed to understand it now I have to repeat it again and again until it sinks in?"

Rachel was shocked, and horrified. She never thought of it that way.

"Ok." She took the cuffs from Quinn's hands. "That's not what I'm trying to say here." She explained moving to intercept Quinn's gaze. "We both did something wrong hat night and we already talked it out. It's done and over. This" she pointed at the cuffs "it's not a way to re open that case. This" she repeated "is because I want to show you that whatever we use in our relationship it doesn't have to be harmful and you don't have to be scared of it." She showed Quinn the clip that linked the shackles. "The person who wears these will always be able to unlock the cuffs and free herself, no matter what position she's in." She demonstrated her words chaining and unchaining them a few times. "Please, believe me, the reason why I want to use these is in no way a retaliation for the fight we had. I swear."

The way Quinn looked at her when she finished talking felt like a stab in her heart. There was such hardness in her gaze that, for a moment, Rachel thought she lost her for good. She desperately wanted Quinn to believe her and to understand that she never intended to punish her for something they already clarified, but she knew words wouldn't be enough, so she just stared back, hoping that Quinn would read in her eyes the truth of her intentions.

After a while Quinn's look softened just enough to let Rachel knew that she believed her. "Ok."

Rachel nodded, thankful, and she looked down at her hands who were still holding the cuffs. "I won't put them on you Quinn, and if you decide not to wear them it will be ok." She took Quinn's hands and put the shackles on her palms, giving her the choice.

The blonde looked down at the cuffs, unconvinced.

There had been times when dominants asked her to keep certain positions without restraining her. For them it was the sign of a willing submission, for her it was just something else she was forced to do because she knew she would have to endure a much worse punishment if she refused.

"I promise Quinn whatever you'll decide it will be ok." Rachel seemed to have read her mind. "Besides it wouldn't make sense if you're not convinced. The whole point is show you it can be safe, but if you're not ok with it doesn't do us any good."

Quinn turned the cuffs in her hands feeling the soft fabric under her fingertips. "What will you make me do?" She asked. "With my hands tied, I mean. What will ask me to do?"

That was a question that needed some consideration.

At first Rachel had thought to push Quinn a little, make her aware of the cuffs in a safe enviroment, taking a walk outside and then asking her to help her out with the cooking, mainly bringing her tools so she would have to open drawers or cabinets with her tied hands, but Rachel could now see that her original idea would be too much giving Quinn's actual state of mind. "I need to practice for an audition." She immediately changed her plan. "My agent gave me a script about a woman who is a scapegoat and ends up being accused of several murders, and the audition for the main role is in three weeks. I was hoping you could help me practice today."

"Reading with you?" Quinn asked.

"Yes. Reading, helping me memorize the lines, telling me what you think. You've always been good in pinpointing the weaknesses in my performances, and I could use that kind of honesty right now since I really want that part."

Yes, that was ok, actually, it was perfect: it would put Quinn in charge of the situation giving her the power to criticize Rachel even if she was in a physical disadvantaged position. It levelled their position to a more equal state. It would make her feel more confident and safe even if she was tied.

Rachel looked at Quinn carefully. She could guess that her girlfriend knew her well enough to recognize a last minute plan when she heard one, but even if she understood that Rachel was trying to meet her halfway, it wasn't easy for the blonde woman to slide the cuffs around her wrists or putting her arms behind her back and hear the clear clicking sound of the clip locking her hands together.

* * *

The reading took all the morning. Rachel roughly explained to Quinn the main plot and the read together three different scenes, moving from a simple reading, to actual memorizing, to the final interpretation. Quinn didn't hold back any comment and she had every right to do it. Rachel was having some problem concentrating on her job, her mind so alert in trying to read Quinn's mood and every glimpse of a problem that might encour that she was very far away from the one of a scapegoat who was trying to keep her life Quinn could easilly sense it.

She felt like her and Rachel were running around in circles without accomplishing anything. They were both so focused on reading the other that they forgot to simply go on.

A couple of times during the morning Rachel stopped the reading to drink and let Quinn drink too and, since Quinn's hands were tied behind her back, she held a glass of water with a straw in front of her.

Quinn would have preferred to drink on her own but it didn't felt so strange or humiliating as other times when dominants made her beg for a few drops of water on her cracked lips. Eating lunch too proved to be a real task for her. Having Rachel feed her some pasta left her with a mixed feeling in her gut. On one side part of her rebelled to being unable to even eat alone, on the other side, though, a small part of her, thought that if her hands weren't tied behind her back it could have been sweet and almost, God forbid, romantic. There was a spark in Rachel's eyes while she neared the fork to her mouth, that brought her mind back to a distant past, when they were both teenagers, and their snack time during afternoons, often turned into two girls feeding each other all sort of unhealthy treats, and that unhealthy treat feeding often turned into heated make out session on one of their beds.

Quinn shook that thought away.

It was the lack of sleep. Just that. If she could sleep it off for just a little while she would got back her lucidity and her daydreams would stop. So it was with a something resembling relief that she welcomed Rachel suggestion to take a nap in the afternoon. She realized she must look pretty bad if Rachel insisted on that but she didn't really care. She wanted a clear mind. Strike that, she needed a clear mind! With clouded and confused thoughts everything went out of hand and she was not able to discern when or what she was giving up.

They laid down together on the couch, both facing towards the turned off tv, Rachel holding Quinn around her shoulders and waist. It didn't take much for Quinn to doze off, in part because of the lack of sleep, in part because Rachel had turned on the tv on a mindless talk show. She kept it at a very low volume so Quinn had to focus to listen to the words and after a few minutes she decided the conversation on the screen wasn't worth her effort to listen to it, so she just watched the images, feeling her eyelids get heavier and heavier any second, till she finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Her phone bipped. Twice.

She stretched to get it from the table without waking Quinn up and she saw two text messages. Both from Santana. First one "Q ok?"; second one "Coming over to your house. No public nakedness please."

She snorted. "We're ok, both of us, thank you for asking." She typed. "Your presence is not required. I'll have Quinn call you soon."

She put the phone down and wrapped her arm around Quinn's waist. She loved how they bodies seemed to fit perfectly, like they were meant to be stucked together.

Another bip. "Nonsense. My presence is always required. And B wants to check on Q too."

"I'm serious Santana, don't come over! We're busy. Quinn will call you later, bye."

Rachel hoped that Santana would get the hint and stop but, knowing the Latina like she did, she should have known better. It took her just a few seconds to answer her.

First message "Don't bye me when I'm talking. EVER!"; second massage "whatever you're doing can be postponed since you're texting me and clearly not having sex"; third massage "we'll be at your house in 15"; fourth massage "BYE!"

_Dear God! That woman doesn't know the meaning of privacy!_

Rachel looked at the watch on the opposite wall. 3.37 pm.

She carefully disentangled herself from Quinn and went outside wanting to catch Santana before she could enter the house.

Rachel knew the Latina meant well but and that she didn't know about what she was trying to do with Quinn, but that woman should really start considering other's people requests and not just dismiss them without a second thought. She was, after all, a reasonable person, and if she asked Santana not to stop by there was a perfectly logic explanation.

It was a delicate time for her and Quinn. Her girlfriend was already on the edges and she wasn't going to risk Santana's reaction to push her over it. Besides she never talked to Quinn about her friends seeing her cuffed. It might be ok with her or it might not, and she wasn't going to put Quinn through that without clearing it with her first.

She walked out of their house, past the gate and in the street, where she would have seen Santana's car approaching. She leaned on the gate, hands behind her back, wasting part of her Saturday's afternoon waiting for a... friend? Was that what Santana was? Sort of, probably. She was helpful, after all, before and after the claiming, and despite her rude manners she had her own way to keep both Quinn and Rachel grounded to earth.

A red car turned the angle. Nope. Not her.

Santana's car was pitch black "As my soul." she joked often. "Besides it makes it easier to sneak away in the night when I have to." Rachel never asked why the hell would a lawyer, and supposedly a not criminal one, need to sneak away in the night. She didn't really want to know.

A honk made her turn her head to the opposite side of the road. Brittany's hand was outside the passenger window and she was waving at her.

"Hey Rach!" The blonde woman jumped down the car to hug her. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah. I just thought I would stop your girlfriend before she does any damages."

"What? Why would I do that?" Santana asked closing the car's door loudly.

"As I told you, Santana, this is not the right time for you to see Quinn."

"Bullshit. She came to our house yesterday and she was a wreck. After that she goes AWOL. I think it's definitely the right time for me to check in with her." She tried to walk into the garden but Rachel stopped her putting a hand on her chest. "What are you doing dwarf?" Santana was honestly surprised by that gesture. Not at all intimidated but absolutely stunned by the fact that Rachel Berry, among all human beings, had had the guts to try stop her that way.

"I said no Santana." Rachel repeated calmly.

The Latina scoffed, an incredulous look on her face. "What is going on here? Is Q ok? Did you hurt her?"

"Dear God, Santana, no!" Rachel was offended. "She is fine and I promise you, I'll tell her you passed by and she will call you soon. Strike that, you know what? Come tomorrow morning, see her with your own eyes."

"Why not now?" Santana insisted.

"Because..." She hesitated, wondering if she should just spill it out but decided against it hoping that somehow Brittany would back her up and convince Santana to return in the morning. "It's just not the right time. Please!"

Santana frowned unconvinced. She took half step forward, pressing on to Rachel, and stared at her for a few moments. "Tell me you've not been that stupid Berry!"

"What?"

"Tell me you are not making her submit to you right now. Tell me you're not rehearsing the slave/mistress play to boost your ego for tomorrow night." Santana's voice got louder and louder as she grabbed Rachel's arms and showed her against the metal gate. "Tell me you were not such an idiot and you didn't push her through this one day before she had to face Raphael. Tell me!" She was yelling by now and grabbed her shirt in a fist.

Rachel grasped the Latina's wrist turning her around. She used the momentum to slam the other woman on the gate making it rattle.

"I believe I already told you not to do that Lopez." She hissed coldly. She had tried to remain calm but all her zen attitude was more than evaporated by now.

Santana might have been trapped, but sure she was not defeated. She shot a cold look to Rachel and she had the clear impression that if looks could kill she would be a rotting corpse on the ground.

"Are you fucking crazy Berry?" Santana yelled fighting back and Rachel had to use her whole weight to keep her pinned on the gate. "Do you have the slightest idea what she went thro..."

"Shut up Lopez!" She covered Santana's mouth with a hand. "Just listen for God's sake. I had to... aahh!"

Rachel retracted her hand and put it between her legs. "Did you...?" her eyes darted incredulous between her and and Santana. "Did you just fucking bite me?" She watched as a red mark appeared on her hand. "You're insane!"

Santana launched herself at Rachel again but Brittany grabbed her waist holding her back. With a lot of effort the blonde woman managed to turn the two of them around so that she was standing between Rachel and Santana.

Her girlfriend seemed out of her mind, still struggling in her arms to free herself from that tight grip, and Brittany had to use the only thing that gave her a physical advantage on Santana: her height. Pushing on Santana's back with her body she was able to bend her enough for her mouth to be close to the Latina's ear. She knew that, in the long run, Santana's impetus and strength would best her so she had to calm her down if she wanted to have a shot in controlling this situation.

Rachel saw the blonde woman whispering something into Santana's ear but she couldn't understand the words. What she saw, though, was Santana visibly calming down as if Britt's word had casted a spell on her irascible temper. After a moment Brittany released her hold slowly, ready to immediately catch Santana back if she tried to attack again. But she didn't, so she turned around to face Rachel.

"Are you ok?"

"Am I ok?" the shorter woman repeated mocking her tone and raising her hand up, showing where the red sign of Santana's teeth marked her skin. "You're girlfriend is an animal!"

"You've got some guts calling me the animal after wh..."

"Santana!" Brittany shot an icy look at her while pushing her back to keep the distance between the two dominants, then she glanced quickly at Rachel's hand. "You'll live." She sentenced harshly causing Rachel to step back in disbelief and Santana to chuckle while crossing her arms in front of her chest which, in return, earned her a scolding look from the blonde. "Now, if you two kids are done being childish, can we please move on?" Brittany looked alternatively between the other two women.

"Right", Santana jumped on the chance. "Let's start with the dwarf moving out of my way so I can go check on Quinn."

Rachel took half step on her left to effectively block the gate. Santana reacted chattering her teeth and smirking when Rachel's right hand instinctively went to cover the mark on the left.

"Enough!" Brittany yelled.

* * *

Thoughts were getting dangerously angrier and angrier. She could see the red pulse emanating from both Santana and Rachel and that bright color could not be mistaken.

She took a step towards Rachel. "Is she hurt?" She asked. No need to be more specific about her question.

"No."

"Did you ask her to submit to you?"

"Yes."

Santana raised her hand at the sky rolling her eyes and murmuring something in spanish that Rachel was sure it wasn't a compliment. Brittany held her hand high signaling to Santana to stay where she was.

"Are you training her?"

It wasn't a proper training, but nothing was 'proper' when she and Quinn where involved.

"I couldn't let the whipping be our first time B." Rachel muttered. "I couldn't hurt her like that on our first time, it would..." She didn't finish, but Brittany gave her a small nod.

"Ok. San, let's go home."

"What? Are you crazy? Didn't you just heard her? This fucking dwarf is training Quinn right now!" She yelled and, again, tried to strode to Rachel just to be stopped again by her girlfriend turning towards her.

"Yes, I've heard. And if she's in training you know as well as me that you can't go in there right now."

"She came to our house no later than yesterday B. If something had to be fucked up it already was."

Brittany held Santana's face in her hands head so that they were looking at each other. "Not the same thing, San, and you know that. Yesterday it was programmed and today it's not. It's between the two of them now and we can't interfere."

"I don't trust her B." Santana protested, her voice barely above a whisper now. "She..."

"I know, but trust  _me,_ then. I know that she means well and she won't hurt Quinn on purpose."

"I don't care about purpose B! She doesn't know a fucking thing about Quinn and Raphael, she's fucking training her NOW!" Santana rage was surfacing again, her instinct screaming, her whole body trembling in frustration knowing that Quinn was so close and she was facing something as huge as a training while she should be preparing herself for her close encounter with Raphael. "She's gonna break her for good."

The blonde pressed a finger on Santana's lips to silence her. It wasn't lost on Rachel how she had to put all her strength to complete that simple task while Brittany was able to achieve it with a light pressure of her finger.

"You remember how it was for us, right?" Brittany asked softly. "When it was you training me? And we already had so much time to be together back then, we already had rules and routines."

"Don't go there B, that was totally different."

"Yes, it was. And yet there was a delicate balance even between the two of us back then. Think if someone showed up while you were training me, think of what would have happened between us."

Rules. Confidence. Trust. Love. They had all those things before Santana started training B, but it was in that short period of time that it all really came together for good. It was a time to test the limits, see how far they could go and, more than that, it was the time for them to learn that even if they made mistakes, even if got close to the edge, they could always come back, safe, in each other's arms.

She rested her forehead on Santana's. "We can't go in there right now San. We will risk ruin them."

"I don't care about her relationship with the dwarf, I wanna make sure she is ok." The softness in Brittany's voice was making Santana's resolution weaker and weaker; her light touch was bringing back memories of distant days when the two of them were setting the grounds for their relationship. She was not ready to admit it but maybe, just maybe, showing up pretending to see Quinn had not been her best idea.

"You do care about this relationship because Quinn cares about it and you want her to be happy." Brittany quietly stated. "Now let's go back home." She took Santana's hand kissing her fingers clasped in a fist. "Come on, I'll drive, ok?" She smiled.

She turned around briefly giving Rachel a fainted smile and then opened the passenger door for Santana.

* * *

When she walked back inside the house Rachel found Quinn sitting on the couch, facing the door. She was leaning against the armrest, her hands still tied behind her back.

"You woke up."

"I heard Britt's voice."

Rachel nodded. Of course Quinn had heard, Brittany had to yell to stop her and Santana from fighting. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Is it ok if I tell you about it later Quinn? I would like to finish something first."

Quinn shrugged. It was more rude than she intended to but she was disappointed. First the cuffs, now Rachel keeping her away from her friends. Quinn didn't like any of this but she reminded herself that she was in no position to argue.

Rachel walked over to her sitting on the couch, one leg bent beneath her and the other hanging down.

"Can you reach the hook of your cuffs?"

Quinn's finger quickly moved to the end of the chain finding without problem the hook that was keeping her hands tied and she nodded in response.

"Then I would like you to unchain yourself, Quinn."

She did as she was asked, easily opening the hook and freeing her hands. Her shoulder slump forward as she was finally able to move her arms in front of her after long hours.

"Please, take off the cuffs too."

Rachel watched carefully as Quinn unbuckled them, freeing her wrists and then, with an uncertain look, gazed up at her, cuffs still in her hands expecting Rachel's next move.

"We're gonna stop here." The brunette said putting the cuffs away.

Quinn frowned "Are we?"

"Yes." Rachel confirmed scooting closer. She took Quinn's arm and checked to see if there were any mark from the shackles. As she expected there was none.

If Rachel was honest with herself she had to admit that Santana's outburst had got under her skin. It was true what she said: she did know very little about Quinn's past and even if she tried she couldn't get close to really understanding what Quinn went through or what Raphael did to her to scare her so much.

Maybe she should have listened to her in the first place. Maybe she should have just followed the advices Santana gave her after Quinn asked her to be the one administering the punishment, when they found a short time to talk privately.

* * *

_"First: stop asking Quinn if she is ok. If I hear you ask her again I swear I'm gonna smack your ass, dwarf!" Santana pushed her back with one single finger till she hit the wall. "She asked you to do it and you're gonna do it and shut up. You won't make her go through the ordeal of asking you again and again just because your ego needs to be reassured about it because, really, it should be the other way around, so diva up, girl, and do what you have to do."_

_Rachel swallowed, nodding silently. She knew she wasn't supposed to be scared by Santana anymore and, really, until that moment she wasn't, but apparently when it came to Quinn's protection something triggered inside the Latina and she turned into this hulk version of herself. Just less greenish._

_"Second: when it will come the time you will not try to touch her, hold her hand, murmur_ 'I love you sweetie' _or whatever cheesy thing you two say to each other. You will walk out the house and you will leave her alone till you'll brought her back in."_

_"That's..."_

_"Shush!" Santana pressed a finger to her lips "I said you will not do it and that's it, Berry! I've been there longer than you, and I know what I'm talking about. If you want her to go through it with her mind still in place you will give her the time to built back her walls because, believe me, when Raphael is involved she needs walls as high as ever. You will not distract her from that, you will not keep her bound to this reality, and you will let her space away wherever she goes when she faces those things, are we clear?"_

_She took her finger away from Rachel's lips allowing her to answer._

_"Yes."_

_Santana nodded. "Third: you will not go easy on her. As much as I would love you to, and as much as you would love to, the whipping has to be real. If anyone, in that room, has the slightest doubt about the_ authenticity  _of the punishment, consequences will be far worse for you and her, and I won't allow that. You will not make her go through that twice because you can't do what you have to."_

_"I know what I have to do Santana." Rachel scoffed and moved to walk away. She didn't need a lecture by that presumptuous woman. The Latina, though, thought differently: she pushed her back on the walls pinning her there with just one glance._

_Rachel could physically feel Santana's eyes digging inside her very soul. She felt her eyes scratching her thoughts, throwing around everything that got into her way while she looked for any lasting fear that could keep Rachel from doing what she had to._

_She found nothing._

_Satisfied she slowly stepped back, and let Rachel walk away._

* * *

But no, of course no. She was Rachel Berry, after all, and she thought she knew better. She thought this was the right way for her and Quinn and, God help her, she hoped she didn't choose wrong.

She leaned on to take Quinn in her arms.

"Thank you." She whispered to the blonde's ear, and then she buried her face in Quinn's shoulder, murmuring her next words through the think cotton blue of her shirt. "I know it wasn't easy for you all these days, and I know how much you had to do, and how much you had to give up just to make this work and..." she inhaled deeply. "It means the world to me, Quinn, that you tried." She kissed her shoulder lightly. "Please, let me take care of you now."

Quinn was stunned, unable to form any coherent thought. In her extensive experience with dominants she never, ever, faced something like this. A dominant asking permission to take care of her.

In a mesmerized state she let Rachel push her back laying on the couch, front down. Quinn felt Rachel's hands moving up her back to her shoulder and she tensed.

"No, don't worry." Rachel reassured her. "I'll just give you a massage."

And she did. Gently moving up her spine, from Quinn's lower back to her shoulder a couple of times with the palm of her hand, and she started kneading her shoulders, alternating stronger and gentler touches.

If it wasn't because she was still wearing her clothes, Quinn would have thought that she was back on her third claiming with Rachel, with the brunette treating the burns and wounds she had on her back. It was three months before. Back then she was at the end of the rope, no hopes for her future and a very low life expectancy, and now...

Where was she now?

* * *

She had spent the rest of the afternoon taking care of her girlfriend in a way that implied just slow, gentle touches and no words at all. At least until she had proposed they both start preparing dinner. She could see that Quinn was still confused but she didn't dare to ask why Rachel was acting that way and Rachel, on her part, was glad for that because she wasn't sure herself. She was acting on instinct, doing what she thought was best at the moment.

From the lounge, where she left it, Rachel's phone started playing an obnoxious pop song. She went to look at the screen and saw Santana's picture lighting up. She was in no mood for another fight, so she left the phone ring until Santana gave up. It didn't take that long.

_'Good,'_ Rachel thought,  _'at least her urge to insult me or punch me is not that strong.'_

Just a couple of minutes later, though, the phone rang again with an unidentified caller. Her agent used to make anonymous call to the magazines and he often forgot to change the settings back to normal but, what were the chances it was really her agent and not an even more pissed off Latina?

She looked at the phone, buzzing on the brown surface of the table, knowing she wouldn't stop calling just because she refused to answer her.

_Let's just end this, shall we Rach?_

* * *

"So you pick up a stranger but not me Berry?"

"Geez, I would have never imagined it was you Lopez." She said in mocking and flat tone. "Very subtle of you calling as an anonymous just a minute after I let one of your calls go unanswered. Have you ever thought of changing career and becoming a detective? You sure know all the tricks!"

"Sarcastic much dwarf? You know what, go fuc..."

Rachel heard muffled sound coming from the other side. With little effort she could distinct the words that were being said.

_[Can you leave me Britt?]_

_[No]_

_[My mistake. - pause - That was not a request, girl, that was an order!]_

_[And my answer is still the same.]_

Rachel chuckled. Leave it to Britt to do the wrong thing at the right time.

_[What does that mean? Nevermind, I'm not up for this right now, just do what I fucking tell you!]_

_[No. I don't care if you punish me later, I'm supposed to take care of you and that means not leaving you alone to ruin your friendship with Rachel. I'll stay and you'll be polite.]_

_[This is... - long pause, then a growling]_

Rachel heard a deep breath closer to the phone and new Santana was back on the line. She gave her a few seconds, imagining the Latina pointing a finger at Britt, silently promising her that the discussion was not over.

"If you two have some lovebirds' quarrel to finish you can call me later, you know Santana?

"Shut up, Berry!"

Rachel could hear the deep and labored breathes Santana was taking to calm herself down and summon her better self, but the silence was going on for too long and Rachel was about to object that she wasn't going to stand that weird version of a bootie call when the Latina finally spoke.

"You're a moron. That's a state of fact."  _[San! - a thumping sound, like if someone just punched someone else's shoulder]_ "You have the worst timing ever and sometimes I believe you are too self absorbed to even notice the world around you."

"Noted. Have you done now?" Rachel asked feeling a tingling in her hand where Santana bit her just a few hours before.

"No." The Latina answered dryly. "That being said I might understand where you coming from. I still think it's stupid but... understandable."

"Is that your way to say you're sorry?" A growl was her answer. "You're really bad at this Santana but, ok, apologies accepted."

"I'm not apologizing, I'm just saying things... more calmly, ok?"

"Whatever makes you sleep at night." Rachel was frustrated, she knew what Santana was trying to do and she knew her heart had always been in the right place, but having to deal with the Latina could be really wearing. And in that moment Rachel didn't have enough energies for it.

"Don't push it Berry."

"Or what, are you gonna bite me again?"

"You deserved that. You tried to shut me off with your hand."

"I was merely trying to make you see reason."

"With a hand on my mouth?"

"Have you ever tried to shut up someone like you Lopez? There is no really any other mean to do it."

"Never put your hands on me if you can't take what will come next."

"Fine." Rachel sighed "Point taken. Hands off each other. Are we done now?"

"Yes. What? No... Hang on... B?"

Rachel heard some more muffled sound and then finally a more cheerful voice talked to her.

"It's Britt, Rach."

"Hi Britt."

"Hi." Rachel could hear the smiling in her voice. "Look, what Santana wanted to say is that we love Quinn very much and we're worried about her, but you're our friend too and we love you as well." Rachel shook her head. Somehow she didn't believe that was what Santana really wanted to say to her. "Sometimes we get carried on by emotions, both of us, me and San, but that doesn't mean we don't love you."

"I know." But she didn't. They were Quinn's friends before everything else. Yes, they maybe care about her too, but if it ever come to siding there was no doubt which side would they choose. It was ok, and it was meant to be. They were Quinn's friends and family, she was just a liability to them.

"No, Rach, I mean it. We do love you!" Brittany repeated hoping this time the concept would sink in.

"O-ok. Thanks."

"We trust you Rach. We believe that you're doing what you're think it's best for the both of you."

Rachel swallowed a lump in her throat. That was all she wanted to hear. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing. She couldn't foresee the future and she couldn't read minds. She was acting on her best knowledge and she just wished people to realize she didn't have all the answers, she was just tiptoeing on difficult grounds, trying to avoid all the traps.

"Thank you Britt." She closed her eyes, pinching her nose. "Really."

"Take care, Rach."

* * *

Santana parked on the street abruptly turning off the engine and ready to jump off the car if one of Brittany's hand hadn't grasped her wrist remembering to slow down a little.

They walked cross the garden and to the open door where someone had attached a welcoming paper stating that "See? The door is open, you don't have to burst it down Santana." with what the two women recognized as Rachel's writing.

The Latina shook her head, tearing away the paper while Britt rolled her eyes. The house was quiet, with just the soft tune of a radio in the kitchen. Rachel was putting away the last cup and she saw them arrive.

"Do you think you're funny?" Santana asked waving the shrinked paper in her hand.

"Yes, usually I am." She neatly folded the dish cloth and then smiled at Brittany. "Hello B."

"Hi Rach." The blonde hugged her ignoring Santana's snorting. "Where is Q?"

"She's still upstairs sleeping. I didn't want to wake her up. Do you mind going check on her?"

Brittany eyed her and then Santana. "As long as there is no bloodbath down here..."

"We're fine." Rachel reassured "And I've locked away all the knives so..."

"Seriously? God help me Berry. Your sense of humor sucks." Santana took one of the chairs and sat down. "I won't kill her B, I promise, go see if sleepyhead is still dreaming."

Britt walked upstairs and found Quinn still wrapped in their bedroom sheets, both hands beneath the pillow and her short blonde hair covering almost all her face. She looked so peaceful surrounded by the light blue aura of her dreams that she didn't want to wake her up. Besides her thought were turning into white, evident sign that she was going to wake up on her on really soon. She decided to just wait.

* * *

Quinn realized she wasn't asleep anymore when she felt the light squeeze of a hand on her fingers. She slowly opened her eyelights and her vision was filled with a closeby picture of Brittany's face smiling down at her.

"Good morning sweetie."

She closed her eyes again. Of course Brittany was watching over her while sleeping. Perfectly normal, right? She rested on the bed a few more minutes, enjoying the blankness of her mind that couldn't start processing things yet. She felt Brittany scoot over the bed, spooning her, and she was glad it was her who woke her up because she had always left her the time to start the day at her own peace, never forcing her up, like Santana used to.

She rolled in the bed, facing the ceiling and then turned to look at Britt.

"And good morning again." Brittany kissed her temple. "Any weird dream?"

"No."

"Too bad, I have a serious contender for our competition."

"Yeah?" Quinn rubbed her eyes, still not fully awake. "And what is it?"

"I was an archer in a forest and I was supposed to hunt something so I could bring it back to Santana to eat, so, you know, obviously I started looking for a peperoni pizza because that's her favorite, and in the dream I knew that peperoni pizzas fly away from willows when you scare them with noise. But I couldn't find any pizza around so instead I cut some bark and brought it back to Santana to cook, but she said it was too sweet and she couldn't make a soup with it, so she just grabbed my coat and we went to a dine where they served peperoni pizza. And while I stopped the waiter to ask him how were they able to hunt so many pizza's when I didn't found one, and he showed me this picture on the wall with a group of men with guns and rifles in a safary environment, and with slices of pizzas in their hands. And then I woke up thinking that you can't hunt a pizza with a rifle, and that at least the bow was a little more fair."

"Hunting for a peperoni pizza and eating bark soup huh?" Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Yep, this is a serious contendent for the title of craziest dream ever. Also, Britt, you and Santana should really stop eating shitty stuff you buy on the streets before going to bed. It's not healthy for you and it makes you have weird dreams."

"But that's how I win competitions."

A light laugh escaped Quinn's lips. "Right. Everything to win, right?"

"Of course. We don't want Santana to win that too, right Q?"

"Oh God no, B. We don't want that."

It was nice, Quinn though, waking up with a friend that tells you her weird dreams first thing in the morning, when your brain is still so unfocused and foggy that you actually have to take a minute to realize the whole craziness of her tale. And it was nice feeling the warm feeling that always came with B's hugs, the knowledge that in her arms she could always find a safe place, no question asked, for her soul and body to heal.

She felt Britt tighten her grip around her, as she was reading her mind.

"Santana is downstairs, waiting for you." Britt informed her. "Are you ready?"

"Five minutes more." She asked like a baby wanting to indulge on morning laziness for a little while longer. She knew that seeing Santana would mean starting her day and preparing herself for what was going to come in the evening, and that could wait for another short while.

She turned on her side, burying her head on B's shoulder, grasping her shirt between her fist knowing that B would let her stay there for as long as she needed.

* * *

When they finally went downstairs they found Santana and Rachel sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, in silence.

As soon as she entered the kitchen Santana jumped up the chair and walked to her. Grabbing her chin she turned Quinn's head around a couple of times, staring at her as if she was looking for something specific.

"Are you done?" The blonde asked rolling her eyes but the other woman ignored her, taking her right arm and checking her wrist too. She knew the Latina was looking for bruises and she knew she wouldn't found any new one on her.

"Now I'm done." Santana answered, satisfied she didn't find any mark on her friend. "So, what do you need me to do." She asked in a matter of fact mode. Her approach on situation had always been one hands-on.

"I was thinking about seeing that movie. Back to the future, you know."

"Dear God, blondie, did you finally saw the light?" She joked even if she knew they were just playing an act. Quinn had no intention to see a movie, she just wanted to give herself and Santana an excuse to be close together while she would prepare herself for Raphael. "I bet Berry has it somewhere in her extensive and ridiculous movie collection. She has to, right?" The Latina frowned. "I mean, I won't speak to her anymore if all I can find in this house are some watery stories and her movies." she strode to the left door of the lounge where a huge library was filled with dvd covers.

"Bottom drawer." She heard Rachel's voice come from the open kitchen door. "Whatever movie you're looking for it's there, the other ones... well, they're more  _my_ kind of movie."

She kneeled and opened the drawer revealing about a hundred dvd covers arranged by color.

"Seriously?" Santana frowned. "This is manual ocd Berry. You should see someone good at treating these kind of problems."

"Shut up Lopez!" Came the response, but there was no real anger in either one of their voices.

After a quick look Santana found the Back to the future dvd and she put it on, taking her place next to Quinn on the couch.

* * *

Every now and then Rachel glanced from the kitchen where she was having tea with Brittany towards the lounge. The picture was always the same: Santana and Quinn, sitting side by side on the couch. Santana was looking at the tv but the dvd had already restarted automatically and neither she or Quinn seemed to have noticed. Quinn's head was resting on her friend's shoulder, she wasn't even pretending to look at the tv screen, her eyes lost on another wall of the room, near the window overlooking to the garden.

Rachel couldn't understand them. They weren't talking, they weren't comforting each other they were just sitting there, apparently doing nothing.

"I don't get it." She sighed in frustration. Brittany followed her gaze smiling sadly.

"Do you wish it was you there instead of San?"

"Yes." It was her first instinct. "No." She didn't want to sound selfish. "I don't know." She leaned her head on one hand. "I don't even know what is going on there."

"Quinn is raising her walls."

"Yeah, yeah, I've been told that but I'm not even sure what you mean."

"She's running every possible scenario in her head." Brittany explained. "She's trying to imagine what Raphael will look like, what he will tell her, how he will touch her. She needs to know what will happen so that he won't take her by surprise. This is the only way she can have control over the situation: if she knows what will happen."

Rachel frowned. Could she really do it? Was her need of control so deep and urgent that she had to force herself into living in her mind every possible situation, even the worse, so that she could be prepared? Has it been always like this for her? Prepare for the worse, don't even hope for the better?

"How do you know that is what she's doing?"

"We've been there before Rach. She did it pretty much before every claim she had to face, but when Raphael it's involved..." She never finished the sentence.

Rachel looked down at her cup. The tea was cold by now but the cup was still almost full. "What did he do to her?"

"I don't know much about that. Santana was the one that found her, after her claim, and she never really told me about it. But I was with Quinn, after the claim, keeping her company when San was away, and I know that it was hard to kick away the nightmares she was having."

Rachel shook her head frustrated. "God. I'm such an idiot. Santana is right, I don't know a thing, I might have just broken Quinn and..."

Brittany reached for her hand through the table squeezing it. "She's still in one piece and as fine as she can be now."

"But I shouldn't have asked her to submit this week."

Britt didn't answer and Rachel understood that she agreed. It stung Rachel, having Brittany confirming her mistake and offering no extenuating circumstance to her actions.

"I was trying to do the right thing for us, you know? I thought that if I had to be her Mistress for the first time with a whip in my hand she would have never trust me after."

"It's a tough call, Rach. There was no Right Thing to choose, just a Less Wrong Thing option and you picked what you thought was the best thing, I get it." Brittany tried to reassure her. "I don't know what I would have done if I were you, and neither does Santana. Don't trust her if she says otherwise."

Rachel chuckled sadly. "Thanks B!"

She glanced again towards the lounge, the picture was slightly different. One of Santana's hand was resting on Quinn's knee and the other was holding the blonde's face on her shoulder. God, why wasn't she able to give Quinn what she need just like Santana did?

"In time." Brittany answered her unspoken question. "You will be able to help her just like that Rach, but for now the best person for the job is Santana. She just knows what to do, you still have to learn it."

She sighed and emptied her cup of tea.


	15. Can I kiss you?

_(A FEW HOURS AFTER QUINN'S PUNISHMENT )_

Britt was sitting on the couch and Santana on the arm couch next to her. The lounge seemed bigger than usual when Rachel Berry wasn't there filling it with her blabbering or her presence, or maybe it was just that the image of Quinn being whipped that made everything else seem empty and unmeaningful.

Brittany, more than anyone else seemed affected by what she had witnessed that day. She had seen Quinn's injuries before but she had never seen one of her punishment and that made it all different: it was all the more real, and more painful

She hugged Santana's waist putting the head on her lap. Santana stroked her hair gently, knowing perfectly what was going through her girlfriend's mind.

"She's going to be ok, B, you know that."

"We should be up there."

"No we shouldn't. Rachel should, and she is."

"You told her to spoon her and not whipe her, right? She doesn't have much experience in this field, San, while you."

"I think..." She swallowed, it was hard for her to be downstairs knowing Quinn was in the bedroom hurt. "I think they will manage, sweetie, don't worry."

Brittany was truly a loving person and she always cared about other's well being but, of course, Quinn was a special case for her too. They had been together all their life and they shared a bond closer than sisterhood. Santana knew that day had shaken her deeply, she knew that, although she tried to control herself, she was crying in the car, holding Quinn, trying to reassure her. And she knew Quinn so well to imagine that, during the ride home, when she was lucid enough, she probably squeezed Britt's hand and whispered to her that she was fine.

It was the first time they left to someone else Quinn's care, and it was weird for both of them. But things have changed since the claiming, and they needed to understand that too. It didn't mean they were not part of Quinn's life anymore, quite the opposite, they were there more than ever, just not in the same role as before.

It was an hard lesson to learn for Santana, but after the last fight with Rachel she realized it fully. She was always gonna have Quinn's back some of her old duties were now Rachel's.

"I don't like seeing her hurt like this."

"I know sweetie."

"It looked like it was…" Britt stopped before saying his name.

"Raphael?"

Britt nodded.

"Just appearances, B. I've never thought I'd say this but Rachel knew what she was doing with that bullwhip. It was bad, but not as bad as it could have been."

"Thanks. I guess." Rachel walked into the lounge and waited on her feet, looking at the two guest on the couch.

"How is Quinn?" Britt asked.

"The medicine knocked her off almost instantly. She's sleeping now."

"And you didn't cover her, right? Wounds need air to heal better, and…"

"Look, sweetie, why don't you go check on her?" Santana proposed knowing Brittany was going to ask Rachel about all the healtcare measure she knew to make sure Rachel did everything right. "It would be quicker."

"Yeah, sure." Said Rachel "Besides I know she will feel your presence and it will make her feel better."

Britt didn't waste any time after that. She nodded and headed upstairs quickly.

Rachel and Santana were left alone in the lounge.

* * *

"I'm going to say this once dwarf, so you'd better listen carefully."

Silence between Rachel and Santana had never been awkward. Tense, maybe, frightening sometimes, specially during their school's years, but never awkard.

They had known each other for a long time and, even in the early days, they were able ti read the other one pretty well, and they still could.

"I know what you're thinking." Santana was looking directly at her. In other circumstances those eyes could scare the hell out of Rachel but that day all Rachel saw was strength. A strength she didn't posses and that she longed. Quietly she started to cry, covering her eyes behind the hands.

"Oh God." Santana rolled her eyes. Women crying, for God's sake, she couldn't handle them!

She tentivately circled Rachel with her arms, closing her in a warm embrace. "She's gonna be fine, Rachel, I can assure you she had way worse than that and the day after she was up on her feet with that annoying smirk of hers painted on her face. You know wich one, right? The I-know-better-no-matter-what smirk. God, I hate her when she does that!" She added the last part mumbling to herself but Rachel heard it anyway and giggled lightly between the sobs.

Santana took that sound as her cue and gently help Rachel up, wiping away the last tears and holding Rachel's face between her hands. "You did good, Rach."

"I didn't mean to hurt her like that. Not in that way, not after what she went through."

"I know."

"It wasn't meant to be this way. I made her bleed, San. This is... it shouldn't... Not like that..." Rachel's was cut out when she started crying again. She tried to hide her face but Santana hold her in place.

"She's going to be fine, Rach." Santana repeated like a mantra. She knew Quinn would really be ok in the end, she had seen her recover after claimings so wild and crazy that should have been illegal.

"What if she doesn't look at me again San? What if what I did ruined us? Maybe she could accept having a Mistress, but a Mistress who hurts her?"

Santana had to admit Rachel's worries weren't so crazy.

Quinn probably thought she could handle the consequences of Rachel whipping her, but sometimes the way Quinn's mind worked was a mystery even for her rightful owner. Quinn could try to accept it, but there was no sure way to know if she truly could.

When Rachel didn't hear a quick answer from Santana she knew she was right and her fears could come true.

"Damn!" The Latina cursed her hesitation.

"Ok, Rach, here's what you will do." She tried to take back control of the situation. "You won't press her and you won't suffocate her. She will figure this out on her own. You suffocating her with questions or demands it's a sure way to lose her. Let her know she can find someone strong and steady in you. Be her rock, and don't let her be yours, not now. And do not falter! If you'll feel like crying - might Sue Sylvester forgive me for what I'm about to say - but you can come to me, ok?"

Rachel looked up at her. It was the first time she was experimenting the loving side of Santana Lopez. She had heard of it, of the way she took care of her friends, the way she defended them against all odds and even put her life on the line for them, if she had to, but it was in that moment, when she heard her say she would offer her a shoulder to cry on, that Rachel really understood it.

"Be the strong one." Santana added in a softer voice. "You are her Mistress. If she thinks you feel remorse or if she senses you can't handle guiding her through the consequences of her actions, she will never respect you as her owner. Be there, be gently and caring, but do not step back, do not show weakness. You're not just a lover, you're her Mistress, through the good and the bad times, health and sickness..."

"Punishment and forgiveness." Rachel ended, and Santana nodded her approval.

* * *

First it came the feeling of the cushion under her cheek, then the sheets on her back, then the sun peeking through the closed blinds and, last, the feeling of her own body. An image of angry, red skin formed into her mind as she tried to get up failing miserably. Quinn fell back into the mattress sighing, flashes of a fresh pain shooting through her back. She slowly rolled over to her side and let her legs slide down the bed in a kneeling position. She learned a long time ago that getting up after a whipping could be tricky, but she found out that rolling down the bed, although it might look a little stupid, made things a lot easier on her back.

When she was kneeling on the floor, elbows and head resting on the mattress, she braced herself for the final part: using her arms as lever she lifted herself up, trying to keep her back as straight as possible and almost managing it perfectly after years of practice. It took her just a couple of minutes.

Walking slowly she moved to go downstairs but as she reached the stairs she cursed her new house. Steps were more than tricky, actually they were a path to hell in her conditions. That's was the reason why she loved her old apartment so much, it had just one floor and it made things a lot easier when she had to recover. She sighed and, knowing she was not going to be confined on the upper floor just because of some damn stairs, she walked down with light steps, keeping her back as straight as possible and helping herself with the handrail.

Every step made her wince as vibration rose from her feet through her leg and back, like a light in a storm he could see the path of pain radiating in an electric wave through her muscles and nerves.

_"Damn!"_  Closing her eyes she regained her composure before walking in the kitchen where she knew she would find Rachel.

As she imagined her girlfriend was in the kitchen idly playing with her phone, probably going through some massages. Quinn wondered if tabloids were trying to call her to get her version of the story before printing it. Because they were gonna run the story in the magazines, right? Probably. Yes. Rachel was, in the end, one of the audience most loved actresses, of course they were going to talk about her new slave and the troubles she was causing. Were they going to mention her too? Would they refer to her just as the slave? Or would the call her the Untamed Painslut?

She shook those thoughts away.

"Morning."

"Hey!" Rachel abandoned her phone on the table, and before its' screen went dark Quinn was able to see that Rachel was indeed checking her messages. The brunette opened her mouth to say something but she stopped herself before she could actually do it.

"I'm fine." Quinn answered her unspoken question.

The other woman frowned lightly, unconvinced, and she stepped closer. Quinn could read a wide range of emotion on her face and for a second, a brief moment, among all those feeling struggling in her eyes, she thought she saw some fear too. She didn't have the time to ask why would she be scared, though, because Rachel asked her something Quinn didn't expect.

"Can I kiss you?"

"That's a first." She raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall you asking that before." Quinn smiled, meaning to be playful, but Rachel kept looking at her straight in the eyes.

"I wanna be sure it's ok after last night. I don't want to kiss you if you're scared of me or angry, or..."

Quinn cupped her face pulling her closer and kissing her.

After the first moment of surprise, Rachel kissed her back, placing her hands on Quinn's hips, closing their bodies together. When she moved back to breathe her head found its place on Quinn's shoulder, eyes closed, breathing deep, lips brushing Quinn's skin.

There were a lot of things she wanted to say but the words she kept repeating in her mind seemed all to lead on the wrong direction.

"I'm ok, Rach. Really." Quinn tried to reassure her once again and Rachel thought about what Santana told her. It was unfair to let Quinn cuddle and take care of her after what she went through.

"Ok." She finally said, giving her a quick peck on the lips and regaining her best actress composure. "Ok." She repeated, more for her own benefit than for Quinn's. She wore her best wide smile. "Are you hungry?"

"No, not really."

"I made pancakes." Rachel added teasingly uncovering a plate of round sweets.

Quinn smirked. "Then pancakes will be."

They ate together, in silence, and then Rachel took her to the lounge where she checked her back placing some more ointment on her wounds. They looked fine, or at least as fine as they could be in that situation. They were still red but clean, and probably there would be no scars.

Quinn stubbornly refused that Rachel called a doctor for her, insisting she was ok and she knew her body better than any man or woman with a medical degree, and all Rachel could gain, with all her protesting and pouts, was that at least she laid down on the couch, taking it easy for the day.

Santana and Brittany passed by a couple of hours later and it puzzled Rachel how quickly they seemed to understand each other without the use of words. Santana barely lifted her chin to Quinn, receiving just a small nod in response, and that was that. Brittany, on her part, didn't even talk to Quinn. She just hugged her and then proposed they played cards. They sat around the coffee table in the lounge and played a game they none of them had heard before but Britt, who insisted she had learned it online. It end up with her blatant victory and Rachel's loud protest and accusations of alleged cheating.

"Just drop it dwarf!" Santana defended her girlfriend."I scored just 3 points and yet you don't see me protesting and crying like a spoiled child. Learn how to lose, for God's sake." she frowned.

"I resent the implication that I'm protesting because I wanted to win, Santana Lopez. I'm merely stating a fact. There seemed to be convenient exceptions to this game's rules whenever your girlfriend needed them so..."

"Oh come on Rachel! I'm no cheater!" Brittany grabbed her hand and lifted the shorter woman up abruptly. "Let's go check online, I'll prove it to you!"

Santana and Quinn heard the flebile protests Rachel made while Brittany turned on the computer and then lower voices speaking about clicking here and there and "Just give me the mouse Rach, you don't know what you're doing!" while they collected the cards and clean the table.

"Come on, ask it and let's get over with it, San." Quinn started closing the card's box and putting it away in a drawer.

It wasn't easy, for Santana, sitting so close to her friend, knowing she must be hurting and yet not being able to ask her if she was ok or if she should check her back and dress her wounds. Taking care of Quinn had been her job for a great part of her life and accepting that it was Rachel's, now, wasn't natural to her.

"Ask what?" She played dumb.

"If I'm really ok and if you need to check my back."

"Do I?"

Quinn half smiled and bumped Santana with her shoulder. "No, you don't. Rachel was throughful with that. There wasn't much to take care in the first place because, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine, but she insisted on checking my back a few minutes before you arrived. She sealed the whole deal: checking, applying ointment and redressing. So yes, I'm good." She placed a kiss on Santana left temple with the clear intent of pissing her off. "Thanks for asking though."

"Knock it off Fabray, you're not my type." She said faking disgust.

"You wish!"

From the other room a muffled and disappointed sound hinted that Brittany had been right all this time: not only the game really existed but, apparently, so did the convenient exceptions that B called during the game and that lead her to an easy victory.

"And are you ok with her? With Rachel I mean." Santana asked sitting back on the couch.

"I'm good, San. I've told you."

"No, you said you're good, period. What I'm asking, here, is if everything is fine between the two of you. She was the one holding the whip during your punishment and I want to hear you say it if you're ok with that."

Quinn sighed folding her arms in her lap. "She asked me too this morning you know?"

Santana shook her head. _'Rachel Damn Berry! I told you not to do that!'_ She took note to scold the diva later on that day. "And?"

"And I kissed her." Quinn answered simply.

"You're one of a kind when it comes to dodging questions, Fabray! And you might be able to fool the dwarf but I'm not falling for your games here."

"San, please, I told you..."

"No, Q Look at me." She grabbed her arm and turned her over. "Are you mad at her? Hurt? Scared?"

"I..." That same question was pounding in her head since that morning. "I don't know San. I know it was Raphael and not her, I've seen the way she's taking care of me, I've seen her eyes and I know she loves me, I really do but..."

"But this ruined it for you." Santana finished, and her voice sounded so defeated that, for a moment, Quinn almost believed it too.

"No. I mean... I know I'm supposed to feel something right now, I know I should either be grateful because this is behind our backs or either be very scared because I've seen her in full Mistress mode and I know how our future can be alike, but I'm not feeling any of this San. I'm not feeling anything at all. I'm..." She looked for the word, "Empty." She stated, feeling that word weighting on her like an eternal life sentence. "Does this makes me a freak?" She asked in a childlike tone, wanting, needing, some form of reassurance.

"No." The Latina said firmly "You're weird affection to bacon makes you a freak, this just makes you very human." She turned on her side, folding her leg beneath her. "It's like when you walk into the sea and then dive in. At first you can't see because you raised the sand while you walked, and it's all in front of you. But if you stay still for a moment the sand will fall down again and you will see clearly again." She saw Quinn look at her with a puzzled expression. "What?"

"Nothing. I just didn't know you were capable of..."

"I'm not." She stopped her immediately. "Britt is watching a lot of documentary lately. Last one was on scuba diving. Thus the metaphor." She waved the topic off with a gesture of her hand while Quinn laughed quietly.

* * *

In the following days, much like Santana had anticipated, the sand settle back on the ground letting Quinn see again. And when her vision, and mind, was clear what Quinn was able to see was that she didn't consider Rachel responsible for the whipping her or for the pain. Yes, it hurt, and more than the physical pain what hurt her was seeing that Rachel was able to be just like any other domme she had met before. Yes, for a moment, the timeframe of a tear escaping her eye, she had feared that she had been wrong all along, that she had fooled herself with dreams of love while Rachel just wanted her as slave. And for that short moment she felt like dying. Her soul shattered into pieces, the air forcefully drawn out of her lungs.

But it passed. Whenever Rachel checked on her for the nth time, or made her pancakes, or kissed her, or told her they should really get her a cellphone because Brittany was fullying her phone's memory with messages that were meant for her, those dark thought were pushed further and further away, just to be definitely buried one night, when she woke up because of a nightmare and Rachel was kneeling by her side. A worried expression on her face Rachel was trying to talk her out of her dream, too afraid that even a gentle touch could bring back unwanted memories and images in her mind.

It was that kind of care that made Quinn realize that yes, she was ok, they were going to be ok, because what they had, the trust they shared, was enough to let them through anything.

In the end the whipping certainly had a huge impact on Rachel's and Quinn's lives. It didn't just left Quinn in the position to consider and come to terms with what happened, but it also forced the two of them to acknowledge that what they had done, up until that moment, was just procrastinating. They had being hiding within their home and avoided getting into the real world as couple but if they kept going down that road sooner or later the world would come knocking at their door pretending to be recognized and to interfere with their lives, just like it happened with Raphael. So it was just logic, really, and very wise (as Rachel stressed out) to set their own peace and start wetting their feet into this new situation.

"We'll start with something easy, ok?" the actress proposed. "Sociable dinners, just a few friends over the house, ok?"

"Santana and Brittany?"

"Yes, of course, but I was thinking also about Juliet and Eric and, God help me, but even that evil woman that cooks those delicious cookies."

"Angela?" Quinn smiled. She never thought of her as an Evil woman but she remembered very well how she questioned every bit of information she knew about Rachel the first time the two of them met (and the second time, and the third, and...)

"Yes, but only if you promise you will defend my honor."

Quinn laughed. "Do you, of all people in the world, need me to defend your honor Rach?" she put a strain of brown heir behind Rachel's ear, letting her hand caress her lover's skin. "I believe you argued your case pretty well, last time "

"Yeah, well, arguing with elders makes me uncomfortable. I always feel like I owe them some form of respect and resolving to use my bittest remarks with her... well, it makes me feel guilty."

"Ok, then. I'll have someone polish my knighty armor so I can wear it and defend your honor, little princess." Quinn smiled looping her arms around the tiny form of Rachel enjoying her grimace of protest.

"Ah, ah, ah." The brunette mocked her. "Very funny Febray!" She let her head rest on Quinn's shoulder. "I'll set for you taking my side at the very first argument so we can have a moment of awkward silence and then a quiet and tense dinner where she and I never lock gaze, not even to pass each other some water."

"Mmm... And what about me taking Angela aside at the very beginning of the evening and talking to her, face to face, asking her to take you off the hook because... well, because I kind of love you?"

Rachel shrugged. "Well, I guess that could work too."

For a moment they just stand holding each other, until Quinn's soft voice broke the silence.

"You don't have to call them, you know? I know you, Angela and Marco don't exactly get along well."

"They're your friends and I believe it's time, now, that they know they can come over and see you any time they want. This is your house as much as it's mine, Quinn, you shouldn't let the people you love outside of these walls."

"Even if you don't like them?"

"It's not that I don't... well, I don't exactly love them too but... no, scratch that." She pushed herself away from Quinn. "The answer is yes. Even if I don't like them. Sure, I would prefer for you to have friends that I could appreciate too, but they're  _your_ friends, so my opinion is not really the point here. Besides I know Angela and Marco love you, I can see that they care about you and even just for that I will make sure that they will always feel welcomed here. Ok?"

Rachel looked at her and for a moment she wasn't sure of what she saw.

Quinn never doubted she deserved the rights of a free woman. When the pain and the stress of her condition was so much that she questioned her resolution, she always repeated to herself that she was a free woman, and she was entitled to her own opinion, her own space and her own choice. But it was one thing to tell yourself that, and a completely different thing to hear someone else saying it to you.

"I..." Quinn struggled with words. She wanted Rachel to know how much it meant hearing her say that, but she was afraid her voice would betray a weakness she wasn't ready to admit to herself, so she resolved into showing, bringing back Rachel within her arms closing her eyes and hoping that Rachel would understand.

She did.

* * *

"So, remind me..." Quinn could hear the noise of something metal hitting the floor in what, she hoped, was the kitchen. "B, keep it down, please, I can't hear her."

"Eight, San. But you're welcomed to come before that. It's not like we're gonna sprang the doors if you show up earlier."

"And are we sure the dwarf can cook? Because, you know, dinner is the most important meal in the day and I have standards!"

Quinn sighed, knowing teasing was a national sport in Santana's world. "First of all the most important meal is breakfast and you always skip that. Second, yes, Rachel and I can cook, thank you very much, and unlike what happened some other time that I'm not gonna mention, none of us will end up in the ER with because of food poisoning."

"Hey!" Brittany's voice reached her through the phone. "Not cool Quinn!"

"Did you put me on speaker without telling me?"

"Sorry Q." Santana half apologized. "I didn't know you were gonna fuck it up."

"That was not my fault." Britt argued again, her voice clearer and louder now that she was closer to the speaker. "The vegetables must have been defected and you know that Quinn!"

"Yeah... Sorry Britt, I was just teasing San back! She started it!"

"Don't turn this on to me Fabray!" Santana snapped back, and Quinn could imagine the Latina pointing a finger at the phone on the table.

"Fine, fine! Everybody is sorry and everybody accepts everybody's apologies, ok?" Brittany closed the argument.

"What the fuck Britt? Why would I be apologizing to Quinn? I didn't do..."

"See you later Q, I'll bring the ice cream!" Brittany hung up while Santana was still making her point.

* * *

Dinners with Santana and Brittany were noisy and friendly. They already felt at home in Rachel and Quinn's house so they wandered around and Santana stuck her nose into drawers and closets, like she owned the place.

Dinners with Angela and Marco, on the other hand, were tense, at least at first, but as they say practice does make things better, and in time the cold glares between Angela and Rachel faded into quiet acknowledging each other and, finally, ceasing the hostilities in the name of their common love for Quinn.

All considered their plan seemed to set off on the right foot with Quinn and Rachel slowly but steadly proceeding into learning how to cope with the different situations they had to face, testing their newly rediscovered connection and trust while they bought hotdogs from vendors who didn't want to sell to slaves, or officers who insisted on checking their papers, remembering Quinn from her old days as an unclaimed slave. But for every place that didn't accept unleashed slaves, there was another who welcomed everybody; for every clerk in a public office who required that slaves kneel on the floor while waiting, there was another one that made the both of them sit on comfy chairs and offered coffee while they spoke. It was just a matter of knowing where to go, who to trust, how to act. And they were fast learners.

Still there were simple things that seemed to cause problems as huge as mountains. Nights were the worst moment of the day.

When they went to bed Quinn had always troubles falling asleep and when she did her dreams were often taunted. At least once a week she woke up because of nightmares and Rachel could hear her get up step downstairs, opening their backyard door and finally go out in the open. She never followed Quinn in those nights, she just waited till her girlfriend came back in the bedroom, even when it took more than an hour. Only then, when Quinn was safe and calm again under the covers, she let her know that she was awake too, taking her hand between their bodies and squeezing it lightly.

Both Santana and Brittany warned her about this. The whip's mark might have already faded away from Quinn's back, but the picture of Rapahael and the terror he inspired would take a lot more to vanish.

But Rachel didn't want to focus on the bad things and she chose to enjoy the small successes they achieved, like when, while still asleep, Quinn rolled and turned into their bed looking for her. It was usually something as simple as throwing an arm across Rachel's waist, or grabbing her shirt in a fist, dragging their bodies closer, and sometimes, rarely, she even nested her face on Rachel's shoulders. In those times nightmares weren't as bad as in the other nights, if they even came at all, and Rachel couldn't help but be proud that, finally, she was able to soothe her girlfriend like Santana and Brittany could. Even if it was just for some brief moment, and even if she was unconscious.

After a while Quinn started hanging out with Rachel at the studios too. Behind the curtains, at first, and then when they both realized that no one, in the crew, was brave enough to publicly talk about the party's accident, more and more out in the open. Quinn waited for Rachel behind the cameras and a few of the cameramen grew fond of her when they realize that she dared to roll her eyes at Rachel's diva attitude.

"Seriously, Quinn, even if she wasn't your Mistress you shouldn't do that to her. Have you ever witnessed one of her rants?" Dean, one of the younger boys on set told her once. He just got out of school, and he got the job so just he could have some money.

"Have I?" Quinn repeated, thoughtful. "Yes, I think I have."

"Yeah, of course... No, what I mean is: doesn't she scare you when she does that? She seems like a..."

"Erinyes? Yeah, she does!" The woman smiled. "She can be impressive when she does that, but you know what is the trick?"

The boy hung on every word Quinn was pronouncing like his life depended on it. And maybe it did, after all Rachel's tantrums were feared more than death itself.

"Be honest."

"What?" He shrieked in a high pitched voice he failed to control. "If you wanted to mock me you could..."

"I'm serious Dean. She doesn't want congratulations out of pity or a weird sense of respect." They walked behind the fake wall behind the band that was scheduled to start its music number soon. "She is her worst critic, after all, and she knows when she steps over the line or when she does a poor job. And if you don't tell her when she does she will just assume you never really paid attention to her performances in the first place, or at least, not enough to notice the difference. And she will never trust your opinion again."

The boy passed a hand through his thick, black hairs. "She could eat me alive if I told her she was bad."

"Yeah" Quinn laughed lightly "she probably could, but she will learn to respect you if you don't just say to her what you think she wants to hear, but what you really believe. As ugly as the truth is it's always preferable to a lie!"

Quinn liked that boy and his long and unruly hair who looked like a child who outgrown his age, even if he must have been around his 20. He spent a lot of time laughing at silly jokes like an eleven years old kid, but it took Quinn's advice in consideration and, even if he never openly criticize Rachel's performances, he stopped praising her every single step.

Quinn guessed that was all she could ask of him and, still, it made him one of the braves and most honest people who surrounded Rachel while she was at the studio. The kid probably didn't have the guts of a Santana Lopez in voicing his opinion, but Quinn was sure he would grow up being a decent man.

He even invited Quinn to jog together, and Rachel insisted that Quinn accepted so she could spent some time on her own and cultivate her own interest outside the house. It felt good, and it was all part of the bigger plan of learning how to cope with the outside world before the outside world could come in and eat them alive.

It was a slow process, one that never really ended.

* * *

**Aaaaand that's really it guys. I'm not totally satisfied with this ending. I wanted to take Rachel and Quinn to the rebel camp, I wanted Brittany and Santana to have their formal yet intimate claiming, I wanted Blaine to show up again and Sam to convince Quinn to join the rebellion, to invert the roles and have Quinn be the most important person in a room and Rachel be "her second", and I really wanted to screw some things up a little bit more, challange the system, tell the story of a great revolution, of fights and love and... well, I dreamed too much. The truth is I don't have the energy (and mostly the time right now) to finish this story as I immagined so I end it here, with less angst and a little hope for Faberry, immagining them struggeling with their condition for their whole life but always managing to get through. Thank you for following me along guys and for all your comments, I really, really, really appriciate them :)**

**Author's Note:**

> Emh... out of respect for readers I add this note:
> 
> I'm utterly disappointed when a fanfic I read doesn't have an end, so it won't be this the case. I know where I want to go with this story and what I want to tell, so I don't think I will suffer from "writer's block" or something like that; but I've just started a new project (I'm actually working to cross one of the items on my "do-before-die" list so...) and I'm not sure how much this new project will get in the way.
> 
> I'll try to be regular as I was with Claimed, but chances are that sooner or later I will be "away from keyboard" for a while (or at least I hope so, because it will mean my project is getting real...). When that time will come... FEAR NOT, MY READERS!... cause it won't be an endless hiatus. Raised will have an end, that I can promise you, if you'll still be around and willing to read it, of course


End file.
